Silent Surrender
by sleeplessinatlanta
Summary: Brennan shows up at Booth's house needing only one thing: him. One silent night could never be enough but it's months later and they still find themselves going crazy at night and pretending during the day. How much longer can they keep silent? COMPLETE.
1. Silence

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Bones

**A/N:** Okay, this is the beginning of my compilation of the Silence story line. I will compile them little by little so that I can also add a new one every time I add a previously posted chapter. And the order might also be slightly different than the order in which I posted them in Only Between Us. That said, remember, these are all inter-related but not necessarily in a linear time line. Some of them might be up to you to decide where they fall within those months, others might be more explicit. Though I do hope they make sense. And if they DO NOT and you are confused, please let me know so I can reconsider what I'm doing here!

**Note:** Almost all of the chapters with one-word titles will have already been posted in Only Between Us, whereas the longer titles are only posted in this story. As always, if you have any suggestions, comments, requests, etc. I encourage you to review and let me know! I pay attention to reader response, I promise. So if there's something you'd like to see expanded, a chapter that left you wondering what happened before or after, it works wonders to let me know and this applies to ALL my stories :)

Enjoy!

**Silence  


* * *

**  
Booth was sitting on his couch, barefoot and relaxed with a beer in his hand. He'd long ago exchanged his work suit for a pair of gray sweatpants.

The knock at his door sent his heart racing and made his head spin. Setting down his beer and turning off the TV, he walked to his front door.

He was rock-hard already because he knew who was on the other side and he knew _why._

Booth opened the door and stepped back to let his partner through. She walked in wordlessly.

What was there to say? They both knew why she was here.

He shut the door close and turned back to study her as she set her purse down.

She was wearing one of those dresses. The type he only ever saw her wear when she showed up at his door for _this._ The type of dress, Booth now knew, that would come off with one smooth tug up and leave her naked in front of him.

His eyes burned into hers as he stepped forward and unceremoniously pulled the silky dress over her outstretched arms. She never said a word and neither did he, but Booth never took his eyes off hers.

Because she could hide behind her silence, but she couldn't hide from him.

Just like every other time she was completely naked underneath and just like every other time he dropped the dress on his living room floor and carried her to his bed.

She wrapped her long legs around his hips and trailed kisses up and down his bare chest. He set her in the middle of the bed and stepped back to remove his sweatpants and underwear.

Amidst his dark blue comforter she looked like the most beautiful pagan offering. He looked at her and felt his throat lock. He wondered how much longer he could let this continue. He willed her to say something, to shatter her silence just like she shattered in his arms and finally, _finally_ make it real.

But she remained silent and he knew it wasn't going to be today.

She opened her legs and he slid home in one fluid motion. No foreplay. Because she was _always _wet and ready when she spread her legs for him and one look at her eyes always told him she didn't want foreplay, she wanted _this._

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her fiercely as he pounded into her over and over again. And she knew by now not to close her eyes because that was the one thing he wouldn't allow.

She moaned wildly into his mouth, her nails leaving trails down his back, and her hips meeting his, thrust for desperate thrust.

He made love to her all night, over and over again and the only noise breaking the silence was the sound of their broken moans.

In the morning she was gone, just like always; the cool sheets inevitably making him wonder if it'd all been a dream.

But she always marked him; the scratches down his back the only reminder amidst the silence.


	2. Every Morning Hurts

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

In anticipation of today's episode, a brand-new chapter. This one probably falls a few months after this whole thing started. Hope you like! :)

**Every Morning Hurts**

**

* * *

**  
Her arms were wrapped around him and her cheek was pressed to his back. But then he felt her shift on the bed and knew she was getting ready to leave.

Booth squeezed his eyes tightly as she released him and when he felt the bed shift again, he bit down on his bottom lip until he tasted blood.

_Don't leave_, he pleaded internally. _Please. Don't do this again. Stay. Oh god, stay._

Booth flinched at the sound of the closing door and rolled on his back; one hand over his chest, the other sprayed over her side of the bed. He didn't know how long he just lay there, staring bleakly at his ceiling.

He almost wanted to feel numb, because then maybe he wouldn't feel like he was being ripped apart. But he could never quite get there. Because there was no way to numb himself against her when he could still smell her on his sheets, taste her on his lips, _feel_ her on his body.

Already the sheets were cooling under his hand and he curled it into a fist, misery and despondency racing through him. After months of this, he felt like he was caught between the most dazzling dream and the most horrific nightmare. And he knew that at some point she would no longer be able to hide, he would no longer be able to bear it, and when that happened, he would either be caught in the dream forever or start living the nightmare.

The first rays of the sun filtered through his blinds and he closed his eyes against the morning, hating everything about it. The quiet, the hopelessness, the freaking cheerfulness of the sunshine which seemed to mock him with its very warmth. Every morning scraped him raw, because every morning now brought its own special brand of torture.

After a few weeks, he'd started sleeping elsewhere on the nights she didn't show up. Unable to bear sleeping in his bed without her, he'd give up and would go to the other bedroom or, sometimes, the couch. And so he would wake up either on his couch or in his guest bedroom. In a bed that wasn't his and that didn't smell like her, all of which only served to remind him that she'd not been in his arms the night before. On those mornings he always felt like punching something.

On the mornings he woke and she was already gone, he only felt desolation, the despair nearly drowning him. And he barely had enough time to battle it back before he had to get ready for work.

And then there were times like this, when he viciously had to prevent himself from wrenching her under him and stop her from leaving. On mornings like this, he could barely even put up a fight. Instead, he just stared at his ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise; letting the insecurity and the anguish batter him relentlessly.

Booth actually couldn't say which was worse; the mornings he woke up to find her gone or those times right before dawn when he actually heard her leave. What could possibly be worse than this?

But of course he knew, he _knew._ Because he'd come to find out that even worse than the mornings were the nights when she didn't show up at all.


	3. More

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

Just cause I felt this makes sense here after the first two. Next one will be a new one, I think it will be a closer look at Brennan's thought process on the night she wakes up from the nightmare and goes to his house, which is referenced here :) Hope compiling this way is making sense to everyone whether you've already read them or not!

**More  


* * *

**  
She knew why she was here.

Because she wanted him, she _needed _him and there was no staying away.

The first time she shown up at his door was a week after the bullet had grazed his temple. It had been minor, barely a scratch; he'd been stitched up at the scene and hadn't even gone to the hospital. Brennan knew he'd forgotten about it the minute after it happened or he'd be unable to do his job.

But _she_ couldn't forget.

The dream haunted her every night for a week until_ that_ night when she couldn't take the dream again.

So she knocked at his door at two in the morning wearing nothing but a loose, silky dress Angela had made her buy but she'd never worn.

He had opened the door sleepy-eyed and so gloriously alive that before he could say a word, she had pulled her dress over her head. One look at her face and he hadn't asked any questions. But when he pressed her flush against him and she placed a soft kiss at his temple, he knew.

She kissed him desperately, telling him without words what she needed. And he understood, just like he always did.

The next morning she left at dawn and when he dropped by the lab to tell her they had a case, she knew he wouldn't bring it up.

The next time she hadn't shown up quite so late, but she couldn't even pretend not to know why she was there because she had bought another dress. Loose and silky.

When he let her in she just stared at him, willing him not to say anything. Not to ask what she was doing, not to make her verbalize the fact that she just wanted one more night of him.

But three months later, she'd lost count of the nights. Though if she wanted a number all she had to do was look in her closet and count the number of silky dresses she now owned.

Brennan knew she had to stop. It was madness, almost like living a double-life. Because no matter what he did to her at night, once they saw each other at work he never let, so much as a look, betray the fact the he hadn't spent the night alone.

She wondered if it was easier to pretend you spent the night alone when you woke up alone. She wondered what would happen if she stayed. Or even if she spoke. But she never did and he never asked and she still just couldn't stay away.

So she kept showing up at his door, wet and naked underneath her dresses. And he would undress her right in his living room and carry her to his bed without saying a word. In the morning she'd be gone but she no longer lied to herself as she collected her dress from the floor. Brennan knew she would be back.

_Because she needed more. More of this, more of him. Just. . . so much more._

_She couldn't get enough. _


	4. Only You Can Hold Back the Nightmare

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

Okay, you benefit from the sad fact that due to freaking Comcast I can't watch tonight's episode until it's posted on Fancast tomorrow! Very sad, make me feel better, yes? :) This is one of the rare ones where, time-line wise, is very specific.

**  
Only You Can Hold Back the Nightmare  


* * *

**_  
She was surrounded by blood, but none of it was hers. Oh God, it was all his. She cradled his lifeless body, rocking back and forth in agonized denial. No, no, no, noooo! _

She woke up screaming. The blood was always his, but the screams were always hers.

"_Booth_," she whispered, her body trembling uncontrollably. Stumbling out of bed, she made it to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The water poured out noisily as she studied her haunted face in the mirror.

The nightmare flashed across her mind all over again; the bullet hitting his temple, the jerk of his body, the blood on her hands … the agony in her heart. And just like every night this past week she doubled over the toilet, retching into the white oval. After she was done, she bent over the sink again, brushing her teeth brutally, trying desperately to bring herself back from the vicious grip of the nightmare.

But even as she rinsed her mouth and walked back to her bedroom, she knew tonight she hadn't succeeded. Because instead of climbing back into bed, she slipped her nightgown from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. She didn't even bother to pick it up.

Almost as if on autopilot, Brennan padded naked to her closet and pulled out a dress, one she'd never worn before, one that easily slipped on over her arms. Only later would she realize just how easily it could also be slipped _off_.

She moved through her apartment as if pulled by a string, collecting nothing but her car keys as she walked to the door. If Brennan had been thinking rationally, she could have reminded herself that he was alive, that she saw him every day this past week and there was nothing wrong with him other than a slight burn at his temple.

But she wasn't rational anymore, because every night he died in her arms. At night, he was always dead. And she wanted him alive, gloriously alive, in her arms.

She drove through the empty streets of D.C. and arrived at his apartment in half the usual time. There was just no traffic at nearly two in the morning.

Once she reached his door all she could do was stare at it and tremble. She pressed one palm against the wood, almost as if by doing so she could reassure herself from right there, just from touching his front door. But, of course, it wasn't enough.

She needed more. She needed to see him, to feel him, to breathe him in.

Only he could soothe, only he could comfort, only he could hold back the nightmare. The thought immediately spurred her into action, as she curled her hand and knocked. Softly at first, but soon she was pounding away, almost in rhythm with the pounding of her heart.

Opening the door, he automatically stepped back to let her in, too surprised and sleepy to verbalize a thought. And when she dropped her keys and dress on the floor, he could only stare at her in stunned shock. And Brennan just looked at him in desperation; willing him to touch her, willing him to hold her.

Willing him to reassure her terrified heart that, even at night, he was still beautifully alive.


	5. Wide Awake Now

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

Okay guys, another new one. Hope u like! And can we all say aww for last night's final scene? It's got my brain working on a million different directions :) Enjoy the linear continuity of this chapter 'cause it doesn't happen often with this story! Remember, reviews make me smile and they are good for the environment, oh okay, only one of those is true, but details, details :)

**Wide Awake Now  


* * *

**_  
What the …?_

Booth shot up in bed at the insistent pounding; automatically reaching for his gun before he realized the noise was coming from his front door. Glancing groggily at his digital clock, he saw it was 2am. Getting out of bed grumpily, he walked to answer the door, barefoot but wearing pajama bottoms with tiny handcuffs printed on them.

If it was his next-door neighbor again to complain about the noisy couple upstairs he was going to shoot the man. How many damn times had he told him to call the police … the local police, instead of waking up an FBI agent who had to get up early the next day? Too damn many to count. But when he looked through his peephole, he was shocked to see his partner.

_Bones_, he thought, opening the door and stepping back, trying to shake the cow-webs from his sleepy brain. He raked her with his eyes, assessing that she wasn't physically hurt, but his question died on the tip of his tongue as she dropped her keys on the floor, immediately followed by her soft-looking dress.

Every single brain cell froze as he just stared at her. He was wide awake suddenly, but still frozen in place.

_Oh god, she was perfect, so perfect … everywhere. Was he still asleep, after all?_

But he couldn't be asleep, because in his dreams she never looked this terrified. He'd never seen her eyes look so devastated and he automatically stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms. Booth hugged her close, trying to soothe and comfort, trying to vanish that broken look from her eyes.

He was about to ask what happened when she pulled his head toward her and pressed a soft kiss at his temple. She trembled and suddenly he realized what had brought this on.

It had been close, he remembered, but it was really only a scratch. She had panicked at the scene, insisting they go to the hospital, but he reassured her he was fine, the EMTs had patched him up and she'd calmed down. Or so he thought.

_Oh baby_, _I'm so sorry. _Booth looked at her, not quite sure what he was going to say, when she pressed herself closer, kissing him with a kind of desperation he could practically taste. She was kissing him like she wanted to swallow him whole. And he couldn't help kissing her back.

Her fingers dug into his scalp and in her eyes he could see the fear and the need, but also the hope that he wouldn't ask any questions. So he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom without saying anything.

Once he was over her in the bed, she lowered his pajamas in one quick motion and he kicked them off. Her fingers immediately wrapped around him, guiding him to her. Booth didn't think she could possibly be ready, but when she wrapped her legs and arms tightly around him, he didn't have a choice.

She kissed him as he stroked into her and he moaned into her mouth at the feel of her. _Oh, God_, he couldn't believe how amazing she felt. Hot and wet. So deliciously wet.

For hours. She was wet and ready for hours, wrenching orgasm after orgasm from him as she moved desperately under him. He emptied himself into her, over and over again, her kisses swallowing all the words he wanted to say.

He fell asleep in her arms, drained. Never imagining that in the morning she'd be gone and there'd be nothing to say.


	6. Need

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

For the first time-readers, this is Brennan's POV during the Silence piece. Which reminds me, most of these are either Booth's or Brennan's POV, rarely both. So, if a particular chapter is just screaming for the other POV, feel free to let me know. I will attempt to accommodate :) Though I will try to alternate consistently so we get a look inside both their heads. And even the squints will get some POV time, I'm playing with something with Wendell right now 'cause I just loved him so much in the last episode. Thanks so much to every one who reviews, it really makes the writing that much more enjoyable :) Enjoy!

**Need  


* * *

**  
She was here again, not even pretending anymore that _this_ time would be the last time.

When she knocked, her heart went haywire. It always did, anxiously waiting for him to appear on the other side of the door.

In all the months she'd been doing this, he'd always opened that door. But every single time she still worried that he wouldn't answer, that he'd decided to put a stop to this madness.

Or worse, that he'd be gone. Out with someone else and no longer waiting for her.

But he was always home and tonight was no different. He stepped back to let her through and she walked in without saying anything.

What was there to say? He always knew why she was here.

He closed the door and turned to study her as she set her purse down on his table. She always did that and he always watched her, heating her up with his eyes before he even took off her dress.

Brennan couldn't help watching him either. Depending on the night, she would catch him at different stages of undress. And the way she caught him tonight was always her favorite.

Barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only his gray sweatpants. Every single abdominal perfectly defined and absolutely lickable. _So gorgeous_.

He looked and smelled delicious. And now she knew he tasted even better. Some nights she wanted to attack him as soon as she walked through the door and take him right on his living room floor. But she never did, because she was always too afraid. Of what, she wasn't exactly sure. Maybe of so blatantly betraying her weakness, her desperation, her need.

But that was so foolish, because her body always betrayed her anyway.

His gaze burned her as he moved forward and in one quick move pulled her new dress right over her arms, leaving her bare and exposed to him.

His lips never moved, but his eyes spoke volumes. She could hide behind the silence, but she couldn't hide from him.

Like always, he dropped the dress on the floor and wrapped his arms around her naked body. And like always, her traitorous body reacted instinctively, showing him that she was weak, that she was desperate, that she needed him.

She wrapped her legs around him and trailed kisses on his sculpted chest as he carried her to his bedroom.

He placed her on top of his comforter and stepped back to remove the few articles of clothing he was wearing. His scent surrounded her and she closed her eyes briefly as she inhaled. Seconds later she opened them again and he stood on the side of the bed, naked and incredibly aroused.

But his eyes were tormented and it made her chest hurt. She wanted to say something, anything to erase that look, but she was terrified.

Because speaking would alter their reality and she felt paralyzed with fear. Because in this reality she _had _him, and she didn't know what would happen once the silence shattered and they were thrust into a different one.

She _needed_ him so much, and the need was paralyzing, making her too afraid to take the risk. Not tonight.

_God, just one more night._

Her legs parted in silent invitation and he buried himself inside her body. Hard. He always understood her silent communications.

The fit was absolutely perfect. _Every. Single. Time_.

He swallowed her moan with his mouth as he kissed her frantically; his arms wrapped around her, holding tightly.

She met his desperation with her own, meeting him stroke for stroke and using her nails on his back.

She always marked him, and she didn't care. Because even though in the morning she'd be gone, she wanted him to remember.

_She needed him to._

He was so good at pretending in the daylight. At pretending he didn't know what he did to her at night. Pretending he hadn't kissed and touched every inch of her body.

She didn't want him to forget. She wanted him to _need_ this too.

He made her his all night long. Their combined moans speaking the things they didn't dare say out loud.

Before dawn she hovered one hand over his sleeping form, wanting to touch. But instead she slipped from the bed and left. Staying, like speaking, was one of those things that would alter this reality.

But she knew she couldn't let this continue for much longer. The need was tearing her apart.

She needed this, but she also needed him. _All of him_.

She couldn't lie anymore. They would have to shift realities before long.


	7. Not Exactly Standard Government Issue

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Remember this is a jumpy time line. Enjoy!

**Not Exactly Standard Government Issue  


* * *

**

"Holy shit!"

The words escaped Wendell's mouth entirely without his permission and as three pairs of eyes narrowed on the reason for his outburst, he desperately wished he could have controlled himself better.

"Holy shit is right." One of the FBI agents that played on the team whistled in appreciation. "Damn, Booth, who the hell did that to you?"

"Well, whoever she is," another agent piped in, gathering closer, "she's not exactly standard, government-issue, is she?"

Wendell started praying the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Hot damn!" Yet another locker room occupant joined the conversation. "Please tell me it was the best sex of your life, because those look like they have to fucking hurt."

"Oh yeah, they look like they hurt like a bitch." The agent who'd first reacted to Wendell's shocked exclamation, concurred. "But, I'll just bet they were fucking worth it," he added, heedless of the storm brewing behind Booth's eyes.

"I will pull out my gun," Booth said through his teeth, throwing his hockey jersey in his gym bag and yanking his T-shirt out of the locker. "I will shoot first and ask questions later."

Wendell and one of the younger agents trailed their eyes away, trying to become invisible. But the rest of the guys were not willing to let him off the hook so easily.

"Okay, Booth, you've been holding out on us." One of the senior agents asked, "So, who is she?"

Booth simply put on his shirt and ignored the question as he quickly started putting away his hockey equipment. Everyone immediately realized that he wasn't going to answer and no one was really surprised because the fact that Booth did not kiss and tell was well-known.

But that did not mean they were simply giving up. Because catching straight-laced Special Agent Booth with fuck-me-harder scratches down his back was not something that happened every day. The situation simply could not go unaddressed.

"All right, guys," one of the senior agents announced. "We are FBI agents, we can figure this out." He was especially brazen because he'd worked with Booth the longest.

"Mmm … let's see. You haven't been dating anyone," he deduced on a chuckle. "So … what are we talking about here, Booth … one-night stand?"

"Nah," another agent immediately interjected. "Come on, Booth doesn't do one night stands."

Booth slammed his locker door shut and threw Wendell a killing look, as the agents continued to debate amongst themselves. Wendell could only hope his contrite expression appropriately conveyed how sorry he was. He hadn't even realized he gasped his surprise quite that loudly.

But shit, there he'd been, about to ask a hockey question when Agent Booth turned to open his locker and he'd gotten an eyeful of the kind of long, vivid-looking red scratches that could only mean one thing: Agent Booth had fucked someone senseless last night. And as the thought materialized he'd not been able to control himself. Indeed, the shocking scratches and the automatic conclusion that popped into his mind had made his regrettable outburst quite noisy.

And now, Wendell was wondering whether he was going to die.

"This isn't over, Booth," one of the agents called out gleefully as Booth collected his equipment and walked out of the locker room without saying another word.

Once the door closed behind him, all the agents looked at each other with identical grins; they'd just gotten an excuse to indulge in one of their favorite activities.

"So, let's start the pool, shall we?"


	8. Fighting It Out

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

I was feeling a bit angsty. Let me know if you like :)

**Fighting It Out  


* * *

**

When she knocked on his door that night, he wasn't surprised.

Usually, he had no idea. Even though, more and more lately he'd come to expect her almost every night, Booth never really knew for sure when she would show up.

But tonight, he had known, because today they'd gone at each other all day. All day long they fought, one argument merging seamlessly into the next, until he dropped her off at the Jeffersonian.

And right before she got out of the car, she told him, "This isn't over." Her words echoed even after she slammed the door shut and he just knew she was planning on continuing their battle that night, only she wouldn't use words. He already knew they were going to fight it out using their bodies.

He stepped back to let her in and she walked inside, keeping her back to him. Usually, she would stare at him as he locked the door but tonight she didn't turn around even when he moved to stand right in back of her. So cupping her hips, Booth slammed her back into his massive erection.

A barely audible gasp escaped her lips as he bunched the material of her dress in his hands and swept it off in one single move. Spanning her waist, he pressed her into him again as he placed sucking kisses on one side of her neck and then the other. One of his hands moved over her stomach, then down. Her legs opened automatically and he dipped his fingers into her. He knew she would be wet and hot, she always was, but it never failed to arouse him outrageously.

Her hips rotated on his fingers twice before she whirled around to face him. Fisting her hands in his hair, she kissed him brutally and he cupped her ass in both hands as she wrapped her legs around him.

Booth didn't even know how he got them to the bedroom because her tongue was wild inside his mouth, demanding his full attention. Before he could set her on the bed, she unwrapped her legs, lowering his pants and underwear quickly and leaving him naked. The moment he stepped out of them, she pushed him on the bed roughly and straddled him.

Before he could even process what was going on, she'd lowered herself on his rock-hard erection and started moving. His back arched and his hands flew to her hips as she fucked the hell out of him. She was riding him so hard, he bit down on his lip to hold back the scream.

She pressed her chest to his and buried her face in his neck as the orgasm rocked her. And when she finally stopped trembling, he flipped her on her back, sliding almost all the way out before plunging back in. Her low moan drove him wild, his hips automatically gaining velocity at the sound. He tangled his fingers in her hair and looked into her eyes, stroking relentlessly into her body.

Her eyes were burning blue and he could almost see the challenge. Untangling his fingers from her hair, he grabbed her hips and fucked her for all he was worth. When she bit his shoulder and convulsed around him, he couldn't hold back anymore.

Just like they had done during the day, they went at each other all night. And even though there was no sweet, slow lovemaking that night, even though they fucked each other senseless, he still made love to her. He still lost another piece of his soul to her. And he was helpless to fight it.

He could fight it out with her, hell, he loved fighting it out with her, in bed and out of it. But he couldn't fight _her_, he couldn't fight _this_, and he was in so fucking deep, he didn't even want to. Because he needed her, oh fuck, he loved her, and whatever sense of self-preservation he once possessed had long ago been destroyed. _She_ had destroyed it; with her vulnerability, her beauty, her awkwardness, with the way she made him feel alive just by looking at him.

And now he could only hope she wouldn't destroy _him_.


	9. Pretense

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

This one can also be found in Only Between Us. But since this is a compilation, I figured it was time to compile :) The next new one will be posted soon.

**Pretense  


* * *

**

"Bones, come on, we gotta go." Booth rushed into her office, alert and full of energy thanks to the two cups of coffee he already had that morning.

"Where are we going?"

"We got a body," he answered, passing her the coffee he brought for her. "It's inside a car and the car has Virginia plates so they called us in."

"I'm sorry, it's not as hot anymore," he told her as she took a sip of the coffee.

"It's okay," she said softly. "Thank-you."

"Bren, don't forget we are going out tonight." Angela walked into the office with a determined look on her face. "This place is supposed to be fantastic."

"Hey, Booth," she greeted before turning back to Brennan. "We're going, no more excuses. I've heard them all over the past few months and I'm putting my foot down."

"Ange," Brennan made sure to look at her friend. "I don't think that . . ."

"No," Angela interrupted unceremoniously. "You know how many hot men will be at this place?" The question was clearly rhetorical. "You know it's not a crime to have sex every once in a while."

"I'm well-aware that sexual intercourse is not a crime, Angela." Brennan answered without so much as glancing at her partner.

"Ladies," Booth's voice was mild. "As fascinating as this discussion is, there's a dead body waiting and possibly a crime to be solved." He really tried to keep his voice even as he said, "I'm sure crime-solving it's just a tad more important than your plans for tonight."

"Well, someone's grumpy today." Angela's comment told Booth he hadn't kept his voice as calm as he wanted. But damn, his heart had slammed into his throat at Angela's words.

Just the thought of her going out tonight and letting some man pick her up was making him nauseous. _No way, she wouldn't do that_, he tried to calm himself down.

She was his_._ Every goddamn night.

_Almost every night_, his mind reminded tauntingly.

_Goddamn it, she was his always_, Booth argued with himself. He knew it and she knew it.

But he wondered if he'd be able keep it together if she didn't show up tonight.

"Remember to go home and change," Angela's voice invaded his thoughts. "Damn, Bren, it's not that cold outside, why are you even wearing a turtleneck sweater?"

"I disagree." Brennan's tone was final. "It's quite brisk outside, especially when I leave here after it gets dark."

Her voice was flawlessly reasonable; her eyes didn't even flicker in his direction, but Booth felt his entire body catch fire.

He'd gone crazy last night. More and more lately, he couldn't help himself. Especially when she stayed away on consecutive nights, and before last night, she spent four damn days away.

So when he opened his door at midnight, he'd been unable to control himself.

Booth slipped his hands inside his pockets to hide the telltale sign of distress as he curled his fingers into tight fists. He worked so hard during the day to keep the memories at bay. He really had no choice, he knew letting them in would make it impossible to show up to work every day and pretend.

But this conversation was collapsing every mental barrier he erected in order to keep his sanity. And suddenly the reason why she had to wear that particular article of clothing today flooded his mind viciously.

_He opened his door last night and had needed to mark every inch of her. The minute he had her naked in his living room, he assaulted her neck in sheer desperation. Usually he carried her to his bed the minute he undressed her, but last night he'd tangled his fingers in her hair, tilted her head back, and kissed and sucked her right then and there._

_He felt desperate and he showered that desperation on her. He hadn't kissed her lips because he didn't want to swallow her moans; he'd wanted to hear them reverberate around his bedroom and soothe the ache the silence always created. So as he drove into her welcoming body over and over, he didn't touch her mouth, instead he'd ravaged her neck with deep, sucking kisses. _

Booth's entire body tensed with the need to walk up to her and see just how much he bruised her. It hadn't been the first time he marked her body in a frenzy of passion and he knew it wouldn't be the last. But usually he did it in more private places and usually he tried to retain at least a thread of control. But, Jesus, the longer this went on the more his control vanished, and lately it was nearly non-existent.

God, she had such pale, beautiful skin and all he wanted now was to place soft, tender kisses on every mark he made. _He should be allowed to do that_, he thought in renewed desperation. He should be allowed to go to her in the middle of the day and soothe and touch and let her know how much he needed her.

Angela's eyes collided with his and for one fleeting second Booth was almost sure she'd been able to read the agonized thoughts running through his mind.

He blinked once, desperately hoping to shove everything back inside those barriers.

"Bones, you ready?" he asked.

"Yes." Keeping her voiced controlled was easy; the hard part was controlling the way her body wanted to shiver when he placed his hand at the small of her back.

He still did that, he still touched her in a hundred innocent little ways, just like he'd always done, as if nothing had changed.

Except everything had and they both knew it. Even as they continued to pretend, they both knew it.

"Bren," Angela called out as they walked out of the office. "About tonight …"

"We'll talk about it later, Ange." Even as she answered, Brennan knew there was really nothing to talk about.

Because what was there to say? _Sorry Ange, but the only thing I want to do at night anymore is go have sex with my partner._ She couldn't hold back a small smile as she pictured the look on Angela's face if those words ever did come out of her mouth.

But the smile faded as it struck Brennan that lately it seemed the only time she didn't pretend anymore was at night, going crazy in her partner's arms.

Because there was no pretense in his bed; everything was pulse-poundingly real when they went at each other frantically, when they were helpless in each other's arms. Every moan, every touch, every kiss an acute reminder that even amidst the silence they could no longer bear to pretend.


	10. This One Night

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

**This One Night**

**

* * *

**

"Hey Booth, you looking for Bren?" Angela's voice almost made him jump and he had to compose himself before he turned around to face her.

"Hey Ange," he said casually. "Yeah, I thought she'd be here, you know where I can find her?"

"She's been in limbo all morning, she looked like hell." Angela frowned, "You have a case?"

"Yeah," Booth answered and it was true but he would have been here today, looking for her, case or no case.

"She needs to take it easy." Angela shook her head, "She looked like she didn't get any sleep last night and now she's going to jump into this case and probably not get any sleep until it's closed."

"Maybe you can remind her that staying in the lab overnight to do work is just not healthy," she suggested, smiling charmingly at him. "She might actually listen to you."

"Is that what she did last night?" Booth wasn't exactly sure how he managed to ask the question without choking on it.

"Yeah, she told me she'd been here all night, working on some identifications." Seeing his horrified expression, Angela nodded emphatically, "I know, can you believe that?"

"I gave her my lecture and she actually agreed with me, so I wonder if she was just trying to humor me." Angela pursed her lips, considering. "But she really doesn't do that."

"Agreed with you?" he asked faintly and Booth hoped Angela was too distracted to really notice.

"Yeah, I was going on about how stupid it was to stay up all night doing work that could just as well be done during the day and she actually said I was right, that her actions last night were very stupid." Angela sounded a little bemused. "She said it had been illogical and detrimental to stay at work all night when there was no real reason to."

"Actually, she gave me this whole spiel about it," she added, frowning again. "I was so surprised by how vehement she was, I backed off, mmm … you think this is her new tactic for dealing with my lectures?"

Without giving him a chance to answer she mused, "Because Bren can be sneaky like that." Walking out of the office, she said with a smile, "Well, don't hassle her too badly about last night, I think for now at least, she's seen the error of her workaholic ways."

_Illogical and detrimental_. As he walked to find her, the words flashed over and over in his mind because he damn well knew she had not been talking about any damn identifications.

He had woken up this morning to the sound of his ringing cell phone and their new case. And after getting the information, he sat dazed in his bed, almost wondering if it had all been a dream. But his tangled sheets still smelled like her and when he went to shower he saw the marks down his back. He had assumed she panicked and ran.

But now he knew she wasn't merely panicking. No, she was already wrapping that goddamn rationality around her like some kind of protective shield and what? Pretending it hadn't happened? Refusing to acknowledge the fact that she had spent hours coming apart in his bed?

_Oh damn,_ he suddenly remembered the way she had kissed his temple. She'd shown up at his door for a reason, and that reason was fear. Did she now need to pretend none of it had been real?

"Hey, Bones," he said softly once he found her bent over some remains.

"Hi, Booth," she greeted, still examining the bones spread on the table. "Do we have a case?"

"Yes," he answered evenly, even as he felt his stomach clench painfully. He had his answer. She was going to compartmentalize, she was going to pretend, she wasn't going to give him a chance to show her that one night could never be enough.

"I'll go get my kit," she said, looking him in the eye and for one fleeting second he thought he saw her eyes flash. But she walked past him and he stood there, almost stunned by the realization that she wouldn't bring it up and neither would he.

One night of her was all he got. Booth closed his eyes briefly, knowing if he didn't keep thoughts like that at bay, he'd never be able to get through the day. _Oh, shit_, he had to forget about it. Forget about the way she felt, the way she tasted, the way she fit him so goddamn perfectly it was almost unreal.

God, he was pretty sure he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to forget this one night.


	11. So Taken

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

I kept playing around with this and I wasn't sure whether to post it or not. But I kinda liked how it turned out so I decided to share :) I'd say this would fall more towards the end when they are getting ready to snap, but it's pretty open to interpretation!

**So Taken  


* * *

**

"Hey, handsome," the soft, feminine voice surprised him. "How about I buy your next round?"

Booth turned his head to look at the woman and gave her a small smile, saying gently, "No, thank-you."

Her eyes went wide at his answer and Booth could understand her surprise; she was hot and blonde and had probably never heard anything other than a resounding yes to that question.

"Really?" she said in a breathy voice, pressing herself a little closer to him. She was not yet giving up because he was the hottest thing in that bar and she was pretty sure he'd look even hotter in her bed.

"Really." This time his answer was a little more forceful and he leaned away from her so she could have no doubt he was serious.

"You taken?" she asked as he ignored her and turned back to his beer.

"Yes." The one word answer was said so unequivocally that even though he wasn't wearing a ring, there was no doubt he meant it. And now she was just plain intrigued.

"Not even a little bit tempted?" she inquired, not trying to be provocative anymore, but rather just plain curious.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to be nice but honest. "Not even a little bit."

"I'm pretty sure you are not gay," she ventured.

"I'm pretty sure you are right," he responded.

"Which means you are so damn in love with her, you can't even think straight." She saw his hand tighten on the bottle and knew she _was_ right. "I've been watching you. This is your third beer tonight, why are you here drinking?"

_Because she's out of town on some freaking conference and I can't even call her and tell her how much I miss her, how much I need her, how I want to go to bed with her every night and wake up next to her every morning. Because we are still playing this fucking game and I'm about to lose my mind._

"It's complicated." Wow, talk about the understatement of the century.

"What's so complicated?" she asked simply. "You love her, you tell her."

Booth laughed outright, "You don't know Bones."

"Bones?" she said horrified. "I'm going to assume that's a pet name, 'cause I really hope that's not her real name."

"No, it's not her name." he whispered. "Only I call her that." And his smile and the look in his brown eyes as he said it, dazzled her. _Damn, _who was this woman and what the hell was wrong with her?

"If she doesn't feel the same, she's out of her mind," she said bluntly. What kind of woman would let a man like this, so gorgeous and so in love with her that he wasn't even tempted to cheat, get away from her?

"She does," he said softly. "She just can't say it."

"And the silence is killing you." It wasn't a question because she could see it in his face.

"You have no idea," he laughed humorlessly, finishing his beer and getting up from the bar.

"Maybe you need to remind her she can't keep silent anymore," she advised. As he walked away from the bar, she called out, "Hey, good luck."

"Thanks for the advice," he said with a smile, his eyes turning nearly black. "I think you're right."

Her eyes tracked him as he walked out and she couldn't help the small shiver that raced through her. Whoever this woman he called Bones was, he was burning for her, and from the look in his eyes, it was a pretty sure bet he was going to go make certain she burned with him.


	12. Coming Back For More

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

Because this hasn't been updated in a while I made it a little bit longer. And it's a little different as it has multiple POVs. As always, hope you like and don't be shy!

**Coming Back For More  


* * *

**

Her nightmares had been replaced by the most erotic dreams and in every single one she screamed his name out loud in the kind of satisfaction that was impossible to hide. Flinging the covers aside, Brennan couldn't help but gasp in shock at the outrageously vivid dream. She sat in the bed in a kind of daze, her body throbbing as she took off the large T-shirt she slept in and rolled her panties down her legs.

Her breasts actually hurt, the nipples so tight, she whimpered a little when she touched them. And she didn't have to touch herself to know she was soaking wet, her clit pulsing so painfully she didn't even need to use her vibrator. Running one hand down her body, she stroked herself with two fingers, legs falling open and back arching off the bed at the stimulation. Her eyes closed on a loud moan but behind her closed eyelids she could see her partner, moaning against her mouth and plunging his fingers expertly into her. She snapped them open again but it didn't matter; she could still see him, she could still feel him, my god, she could almost taste him as she came quickly under her own hand. Every fucking night this week she had woken up a trembling, aroused mess desperate for him.

_Oh God, what had one night of him done to her? _

Brennan knew she had run that next morning, terrified that her night of recklessness would ruin their partnership. But all week long he had pretended it had never happened and by now she was certain he wouldn't bring it up.

Part of her was relieved she wouldn't have to explain herself, but there was another part-the part that came roaring out whenever she was alone with her thoughts-that wanted to confront him, that wanted to run right back to him. And that part of her growled resentfully with every day that went by without him saying anything.

And she knew, she knew why his silence was driving her crazy. She was too smart not to realize that the possibility of a confrontation meant the possibility of one more night. And if _he_ confronted _her_, then she wouldn't have to make the choice herself. But after the past week, Brennan knew it wasn't going to be that easy. She _was_ going to have to make the choice: either pretend it had never happened or go back for one more night.

Two nights later she made her decision, even though she was starting to think she'd never really had a choice to begin with. And this time she wasn't on auto-pilot, this time she was just plain ravenous.

She wasn't sure what made her buy another silky dress; maybe she wanted him to know what she was there for the moment he opened that door. She stared at it before she knocked, almost paralyzed by the combination of arousal and fear. And when he let her in she could barely even breathe.

He locked the door and turned slowly to look at her, his eyes raking over her dress, his nostrils flaring as he immediately realized the meaning behind it. Standing in front of him she suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, and she held her breath waiting for him to demand an explanation. She wanted to launch herself at him and tell him with her body what she couldn't say out loud.

The relief made her weak as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her fiercely without asking anything. But once she closed her eyes, he stopped kissing her and when she looked at him, Brennan understood. She could keep her silence, but she had to give him this.

Booth wondered if he was losing his mind. _Was she really here, telling him wordlessly that one night was not enough?_

As he kissed her hungrily he wondered why she needed the silence. _What was she so afraid to say out loud?_ When she closed her eyes, he forced himself to stop and wait for her to look at him. Looking into her eyes, he dragged the dress up slowly but meaningfully.

If she needed the silence he would give it to her and if she needed pretense once the night was over, he would pretend with her. But he would not-_he could not_-give her yet another shield to erect between them. The look in those expressive eyes of hers, the need and desire, the hungry desperation he could see there, was the only thing keeping him sane. It was the only thing allowing him to pick her up and carry her to his bed without asking one single question.

When she came back three nights later, and then the next two nights after that, he made sure to undress her, slowly and deliberately, in the full light of his living room. Eyes locked unequivocally on hers. And those first few times she came back, he pounded into her relentlessly, fingers laced together, bodies surging rapturously, and always with eyes wide open.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and eventually he no longer needed to look in her eyes to know how she felt. He knew, when she kept showing up, when she couldn't stay away, when she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck and trembled against him. And he knew there was no turning back from this.

They could pretend all they wanted during the day, but she always came back for more and he always gave it to her. Because he needed more too, he needed more of _her_.

They'd crossed practically every goddamn line together; the silence between them the one barrier they didn't dare breach. But resonating in the silence was the one thing they couldn't deny; the one thing their minds, their bodies, their hearts were simply desperate for and that was just _more, more, more._


	13. You Have To Know

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

This one along with the next are kind of bookends to **Pretense**. This is the night of, the next one will be the night before. And after that I will add **Suspicion **(which can be found in Only b/w Us) and which if you read carefully you might catch the reference which indicates it is the day after Pretense :) I think at first glance this is angsty but upon closer inspection, not so much. Hope you enjoy!

**You Have To Know  


* * *

**

The first time she showed up at his door wearing something _other_ than her customary soft, sexy dresses was the night Angela dragged her to a nightclub. That was also the first night he made love to her somewhere _other _than his bed.

Angela had not been happy about her attire; apparently a turtleneck and slacks was not appropriate wear for the aptly named _Frenzy_, but Angela knew when to pick her battles. So, when it became obvious that Brennan was not going to go home and change, Angela found the skirt that she left in her office weeks ago and armed with the skirt, plus a heavy dose of attitude and a side of inflexibility, she marched into Brennan's office.

It took her almost an hour of cajoling, wheedling, pleading, and outright threatening, but at a quarter to 9pm, Brennan gave up and told Angela that if she got one more hour to do work in peace _and _quiet, she would go with her. Acquiescing gracefully in the face of victory, Angela sweetly agreed. And even though Angela would bitterly disagree, Brennan knew she gave into Angela's demand much too easily, and she knew why. She felt guilty; she hated deception but yet she'd been lying to her friend for weeks, god, for months. Ever since that first morning when Angela found her in limbo with dark circles under her eyes and she told her she spent all night working.

And just yesterday Brennan realized that apparently she had not been compartmentalizing as well as she thought. Because yesterday Angela had noted that she seemed a little off and asked if everything was okay. Although quickly assuring that everything was fine, Brennan knew why Angela had picked up that something was wrong. Something was; because she had spent four nights away from him and that was just so wrong. And apparently he thought so too because the turtleneck she'd so calmly defended to Angela today was a direct result of his mouth going crazy on her neck last night. Which only served to remind her that she had lied yet again and so the least she could do was give in. Which is why an hour and half later she found herself wearing Angela's flouncy skirt amid the frenzied crowd at _Frenzy._

But after two interminable hours she couldn't take it anymore. Her turtleneck was thin with cap sleeves but in the stuffy atmosphere, it was practically asphyxiating her. The music was pulsing in rhythm with the pounding of her temples. And there was only one place she wanted to be anyway, so she said goodbye to Angela and headed straight to his place.

She didn't consider how tonight she was deviating from all the previous nights, she just knew that she wanted to bury her face in his neck and inhale his clean, soothing scent. And some part of her also knew that every minute that ticked by without her showing up, he would be torturing himself with Angela's words from this morning.

"_You know how many hot men will be at this place? … You know it's not a crime to have sex every once in a while."_

But he had to know, didn't he? He had to know she was his, even when she tried to stay away she was his.

She had to know, didn't she? She had to know that if she didn't show up tonight it was going to drive him crazy.

_Shit, get a grip,_ Booth ordered himself. Even if she went out with Angela, she wasn't going to leave that club with some guy tonight, he knew that. He trusted her, he trusted her completely and he knew she trusted him. Which was why even though it seemed almost crazy, they had never once, in all these months, used protection. And regardless of the craziness of the situation, he trusted her implicitly and he knew she would either go home alone or come here.

But damn, today had been a hard day. Everything had conspired to test his self-restrain, from that shirt she was wearing to Angela's insistence to the way one of the new crime tech guys had flirted shamelessly with her. Every. Damn Thing. Until all he'd wanted to do was crush her against him and whisper in her ear, _"Please, don't stay away tonight."_

When she knocked, his knees almost gave out and when he opened the door his eyes went wide at the way she looked. Her smoky make up and flirty skirt told him that Angela had succeeded in dragging her out tonight, but more importantly, it told him that she had come here straight from whatever club they went to. Instead of going home first and changing into one of those soft dresses he always wanted to rip off her, she had come here instead.

In all the months they'd been doing this, it was the first time he didn't step back to let her in. Instead, he circled one arm around her waist, capturing her mouth and pressing her against him. Once he had her inside, he trapped her body between him and the closed door as he kissed her hungrily. And removing her soft turtleneck Booth did what had consumed his mind every time he looked at her today; he pressed soft kisses to the marks he left on her neck last night.

Her quick hands pulled on the string of his pajama pants and wrapped around him and he slid his hands up her skirt and pulled her underwear down. In one swift move, he stroked into her, gripping her thighs as her long legs encased his hips. Even as he pumped into her, his lips trailed softly across her neck, kissing and licking every mark over and over again. And even though his strokes into her were measured instead of frantic, and the only sound betraying her excitement was her rapid breathing, he knew they were out of control, because they'd never done _this_ before.

Every single time before, he had undressed her completely and carried her to his bed. But god, now he was making love to her against his front door and the only article of clothing he'd fully removed was her shirt. Her fingers threaded in his hair as she convulsed against him, and Booth pressed his lips against her throat as he came with her.

Stepping out of his pants which had pooled at his feet, he got them to the bedroom. She was still holding him tight, her arms and legs firmly around him. So he reached back and slipped her shoes off and then reached between them and tore her underwear off because it was just in the way. She moved under him and placed sucking kisses on his neck and he quickly got hard inside her body again. His fingers cupped her lace-covered breasts as he moved his hips faster and faster until they both shattered.

By the third time he made love to her, Booth finally managed to undress her completely, removing her lacy bra and skirt. He kissed every inch of her naked body, letting her know wordlessly how glad he was she was here with him. Her hands caressed him softly in answer, her body arching beautifully under his lips.

Making love with her that night Booth could almost forget that he would most likely be waking up alone. That tomorrow when he saw her, he would have no right to go up to her and kiss her softly or run his fingers through her hair or even brush his lips across her cheek in a hello kiss.

When he spooned his body around her for the night, he almost, almost whispered _stay_. But just like he had so many nights before, he simply pressed his face against the back of her neck and tried to get some sleep; knowing that before dawn, he would let go of her and give her the choice, stay or go. And damn her, she always chose wrong. She had to know, she had to know it was driving him crazy. How stubborn could one woman be?

_Fuck, Bones, _he thought as his eyes drifted shut, _You know you are mine now, just say it, damn it._

His hands tightened around her as he wondered how many more times she was going to keep making the wrong choice. But he pressed his lips against her nape in absolute adoration even as he railed against her stubbornness.


	14. Can’t Give You Up

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

I always struggle with Brennan yet I was determined to write this from her POV, since we already have some insight into this night from Booth's perspective in** Pretense**. This is the night before, which he briefly "flashes" back to when Angela comes in! Hope you enjoy! Let me know if this is getting too confusing :)

**Can't Give You Up  


* * *

**

She had always thought of herself as a very controlled individual; indeed she had even been called repressed. A particularly unhappy date had once even called her icy. Yet _he_ had managed to strip her of every ounce of self-control she had once possessed.

How had one desperate night turned into two and two into ten and ten into months and months of desperately needing the one man she should have stayed away from?

How had he become the most important person in her life, the one thing she couldn't bear to lose? She didn't know, she just knew he had. Damn him, he just had and now she was addicted to more than just his company and his smiles, and his chocolate brown eyes. Now, she was also addicted to touching him, to kissing him, to feeling his arms around her, to snuggling into him, to every goddamn thing she'd been telling herself for years she could do without.

The first few weeks she had tried to pretend she was going to stop. She told herself over and over how she was endangering their partnership, how she was risking the most important relationship in her life every time she gave in to purely selfish desires; she told herself a lot of stuff that in the end did not make one damn bit of difference. Because in the end, all that mattered was that now she knew what he felt like inside of her and she just couldn't give it up.

She couldn't give up the way she felt every time he touched her, every time he kissed her, every single time he stroked into her. Like she was the only woman he would ever want again; like she was the one thing he couldn't give up either.

And she was terrified.

She felt vulnerable enough when she realized she couldn't stand to lose him as her partner, but now she couldn't stand to lose _him_, period.

God, she could barely even go four days without him anymore. That paralyzing realization hit her at work today when Angela had casually asked if she was okay, apparently she seemed a little off.

A little off. What the hell did that even mean? But she knew what it meant, it meant that all that desperation she was trying to hide was slowly leaking out.

For the first three of those days she had been feeling achy and bloated, and not at all sexual, but she had been desperate to go to him anyway and just have him hold her. She ached to snuggle into his perfectly sculpted chest and inhale his lovely scent as he rubbed her back soothingly. The longing practically drowned her and Brennan knew that if she showed up at his door feeling like that, she would break, and all the things she'd yet to say would come pouring out in wave after wave. So she stayed away a fourth consecutive day, even though by then she was aching to have him hold her and do quite a bit more than just rub her back.

But tonight she was giving up the fight because, god, she missed him. They didn't even have a case so she'd only seen him a few times-both for lunch-over the past several days. And she just fucking missed him.

She left her office late, finishing up the work that had piled up after the total lack of motivation of the last four days, so it was midnight by the time she made it to his apartment. Brennan knew it was late, but she didn't care, and when he opened the door she was certain that he cared even less.

He pounced within seconds after letting her in and had her naked in his living room before she could even blink. His fingers threaded through her hair just a little roughly and when his eyes clashed with hers, she could see four nights had been too long for him too.

She could _see_ it in his eyes, but she could _feel_ it in the way he exposed her neck and sucked her madly. The moan that escaped her lips reverberated throughout the room and seemed to make him even wilder.

By the time he carried her to the bed, Brennan knew he was going to mark her up tonight. The thought made her go insanely wet, head falling back invitingly as his fingers wrenched the first orgasm out of her.

He didn't kiss her lips once that night, instead he placed wet, sucking kisses on both sides of her neck, increasing the suction every time she moaned. It took her one more orgasm before Brennan realized he was matching his strokes to the noises she was making. The more continuous the moan the deeper he stroked into her, but quick, gasping ones in consecutive order meant fast, hard pumps that made her own hips pick up speed.

The last few times she had shown up, he had made love to her slowly and sweetly once and then held her the rest of the night while they slept; until the morning came when he would always let go of her.

But that night he went at her. All. night. long. Driving into her body over and over, sucking and kissing every inch of her he could reach, with the exception of her lips.

In the early morning light she looked at his strong, smooth back, and fisted her hands to prevent herself from running her lips along his spine.

_Why? Why did he always let go of her? Why couldn't he just hold her against him until she had no choice but to stay? _

A few times she had woken up with her arm around his waist, cheek pressed to his back and would hold her breath as she rolled away, wondering if his hand would snake out and stop her. And those times she would think _why?_ _Why_ _did he never stop her? _

She didn't even know anymore what was pushing her to leave in the mornings. Maybe the fact that it would surely be impossible to stay without saying anything or maybe the fact that he never moved a muscle when she left; she could never even tell whether he was asleep or awake.

_Oh Booth_, she thought as she got out of bed. _I hope we have a case today_, _I want to see you_.

She was greedy. She didn't want to give up any part of him. Not the man who worked with her to bring some measure of justice to the dead and not the man who made love to her in the most exquisite passion she had ever experienced.

He was her partner. In bed and out of it. At night and during the day. She was not going to give any of it up.

_She just couldn't._


	15. Suspicion

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

**Suspicion  


* * *

**

"Is something going on with Booth?"

Brennan was certain her face had gone pale at the question and could only be thankful that Angela, sitting on the couch and with the computer screen in the way, couldn't see her panicked expression.

She kept typing on her computer and made her voice as casual as humanly possible, "I'm afraid you are going to have to give me more than that, Ange."

Because she didn't want Angela to think she was being even a little bit evasive, she stopped typing and moved her head so she could look at her friend straight in the eye. "You know I don't do well with vagueness."

"Well, that's exactly the problem." Angela gave a little exasperated sigh and rose from the couch. "It is so vague; I can't even put my finger on it."

"Maybe you are imagining whatever it is." _Please god, let her drop this. Now._

But, of course, as if she didn't already have enough proof that God did not exist, Angela sighed again and started pacing.

"Well, usually I wouldn't think so," she stopped her pacing for a second to look at Brennan. "You know how I have a sense for these things, and I'm sensing _something_, but it's so slight, I'm wondering if it _is _my imagination."

Angela's dark eyes drilled into hers, almost as if trying to see into her soul, "Which is why I'm asking you, because I figured you would know if something was going on."

_Of course she knew. She'd known for months_. _She was the person directly responsible for what was going on. _

Angela had only asked about Booth, but Brennan knew her friend could be sneaky and wondered if Ange was just trying to figure out whether whatever she could sense going on with Booth related back to her in anyway.

They both been compartmentalizing outrageously and she wondered if Angela had noticed and was now digging, alerted to something suspicious by her damn sixth sense. Her first instinct was to deny, but Brennan knew denial was the quickest way to arouse suspicion.

She hoped her faced looked pensive, instead of ill, as she frowned slightly, "I don't know, Ange. I haven't really noticed anything out of the ordinary."

"But, you know, I don't have your magic powers, so I guess it is feasible something's going on with him and I just haven't noticed." Brennan bit her lower lip for effect, hoping to convey the right amount of uncertainty.

"It's not magic powers, Bren," she corrected exasperatedly. "It's just a sixth sense." But Brennan could tell she was giving up since she had flopped down on the couch again. She didn't, however, make the mistake of relaxing her guard. She knew Angela was capable of picking up her relief like a hound could pick up a fresh trail.

To make absolutely sure that Angela could not possibly think she was anxious to end this terrifying conversation, Brennan ventured, "What exactly have you noticed, Ange? Do you think I should talk to him?" The irony of the question wasn't lost on Brennan, since talking was the one thing they never did when she went to his house at night.

She moaned underneath him and he went wild under her, but they never said anything. _Ever. _And the silence was haunting her.

"No." Angela's voice said she wasn't satisfied but she was giving up for now. "I don't even know what it is really, there was just this look to him . . . this flash in his eyes, like he was about to snap, but it was gone so quickly I almost think I imagined it. Maybe I did." Except Angela knew she hadn't because it was the exact same look she saw in Brennan's eyes more and more lately.

"Maybe." Brennan turned back to her computer in veiled relief and missed the speculative look on her friend's face. Angela left the office, her dark eyes shining brightly.

Oh, they thought they were so good at pretending.

And Angela did have to give them credit for their superb acting skills; but Brennan had not been quite as good as she thought during their little conversation. Right when she had asked if she should talk to Booth, her face had looked haunted. And whatever she had been thinking then was torturing Bren so much, she'd backed off, her suspicions confirmed.

Surprisingly, it was Brennan who had first aroused such suspicion. With that look, that close-to-the-edge-look that just yesterday she caught in Booth's eyes. And that's when she realized with a jolt that whatever had been going on with Brennan the past few months involved her partner.

If she didn't know better she would say they were hitting the sheets. Certainly that would have been her first guess.

But there was no possible way they could be having sex and still generate that much sexual tension, that much electricity, between them.

But something sure as hell was going on and they were so close to the edge, one of them was bound to snap. They thought they were so good at, what was that word Bren liked, oh yes, so good at compartmentalizing.

But she _knew_ they were both about to snap.


	16. Standing On The Edge

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

Inspiration for this came from **DripPan's** suggestions!

**Standing On The Edge**

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Brennan debated with herself for an hour, but in the end, she skipped the last day of her conference and got on the first plane home. She was honest enough to admit that her attention span had been close to zero these past few days and she had not absorbed anything; the speakers were brilliant but they might as well have been worthless for all the attention she gave them.

This was unacceptable, it was wrong, it was downright unreasonable, but she couldn't compartmentalize away the need to see him, to talk to him, to touch him, the need to just plain _be_ with him. If they'd had an active case, she could have just called him to talk about it, but they didn't, so any call she made could not be disguised as anything other than utterly personal.

So what? _So the fuck what,_ she railed internally, _of course it was personal. _

But instead of calling, she decided to deal with it by getting on a plane and going home early. God, it was ridiculous; they had made love every possible way but she couldn't just pick up the phone and ask about his day.

It was this _thing_ they had going, she knew. It was breaking her, it was breaking them both and she felt like she was standing at the edge of a precipice; one false step and she would end up crushed at the bottom. But she also knew that with the _right_ step, she'd be able to practically fly off that ledge, metaphorically-speaking, of course.

Brennan didn't know whether the right step was driving straight from the airport to his apartment, but that's what she did anyway. And when she saw that his car wasn't parked outside, she felt her stomach clench painfully.

_Where was he?_ She shouldn't be surprised he wasn't home, it was after all a Saturday night and as far as he knew she wasn't even getting home until tomorrow night. Yet she was, because in all these months, not once had he not been home.

She considered going to her own place, but damn it, she wanted to see him, so without giving herself a chance to think about it, Brennan used her key and decided to wait for him. They were in a relationship, after all. Granted, it was a weird, dangerous relationship, but that didn't make it any less real and she had missed him. She was damn well going to wait.

Booth was so distracted getting home that he didn't even see her car. All he could think about were the words some stranger had said to him tonight.

_Maybe you need to remind her she can't keep silent anymore_.

When he opened his door, Booth realized something was out of place and instinctively drew his gun. But almost immediately he holstered it again as his heart started beating wildly.

Her purse was on the table, her huge ring of keys next to it. _She was supposed to be in some conference in Montreal._

He walked slowly toward his bedroom and softly pushed open the door, almost afraid to find out that it was his imagination playing tricks on him. But she was there, sleeping peacefully on his bed.

Taking off his jacket and setting his gun down, he moved carefully, kneeling next to the bed, and looked down at his sleeping partner.

_Oh, Bones, I love you so much_. His breath caught as he gently brushed back a strand of hair. She looked so perfect there in his bed, wearing one of his FBI logoed T-shirts and her hair haloed out on his pillow.

"So pretty," he whispered, pressing his lips against her shoulder. "So damn perfect." The whispered words seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

Undressing, he got into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her warm body. She immediately rolled into him, burying her face against his neck and letting out a soft mmm sound that made him smile. Booth slipped his hands under the T-shirt and pressed her firmly against him, their legs tangling together as he covered them both with a sheet.

He woke up around dawn and his heart started beating faster, his arms tightening around her in rejection of what he knew he had to do. _Damn, damn, damn_. Forcing himself to let go, he rolled onto his side and waited … but when he felt her shift on the bed it was like something snapped.

Whirling around suddenly he rolled her under him, eyes locking together as he reached under his FBI shirt and tugged her boy-cut panties down swiftly. She gasped into his mouth as he rocked into her desperately; her legs locked around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

It was quick and almost violent, their bodies ramming together savagely in the early morning light. His fingers left bruise marks on her hips and her teeth left their imprint on his shoulder.

_Fuck!_ As the blood continued to roar in his head, Booth knew that as long as he kept her under him she wouldn't be able to go. He looked down at her, eyes closed and breathing still erratic and gathered the willpower to roll onto his back, his own breathing also out of control.

Booth closed his eyes, knowing that if he saw her walk out, he would lose it. He felt her drop a tiny kiss on his shoulder and then he heard her get up from the bed and leave the bedroom.

Finally opening his eyes, he took in the tangled sheets around him; she had absconded with his shirt but left her underwear behind.

_Oh, fuck this_. Lunging from the bed, he grabbed the first pair of pants he could find and ran after her but by the time he got to the street she was already gone.

"Damn it, Bones!" he yelled out loud, earning a startled glance from a teenager entering the building.

_We can't keep doing this forever,_ Booth thought as he headed back to his apartment. It was clear by his half-naked sprint this morning that with every day that passed he got that much closer to the edge. _I don't know how, Bones, but I'm gonna make sure you can't keep silent anymore._


	17. At The Top Of The List

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. Sadly.

If you loved _Standard Government Issued _and wanted more about the pool, then this is for you! I must confess I cracked myself up writing this! But I'm easily amused.

**At The Top Of The List**

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"Hey … hey, Dr. Brennan." On the way to Booth's office, Brennan was intercepted by an FBI agent whose name she didn't know but who looked vaguely familiar.

"Hello," she greeted politely, drilling him with her customary direct stare.

"Mm …hi, do you have a sec?" The agent shifted a little, her gaze making him feel like a bug under a microscope. "I was wondering if … you and Booth are tight, right?"

"Tight?" She arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I mean you're partners, right?" He nodded his head, indicating the breakroom, and she walked with him. "You share stuff … you know what's going on in each other's life, right?"

"I suppose so," she said cautiously, a slight frown marring her forehead. "Why?"

"Well, you see … that is … I was wondering whether Agent Booth was seeing anyone?" He looked around nervously. If Booth caught him grilling his partner, he was going to be in a world of hurt, but damn, that pool was the hottest thing going around the Hoover Building lately and he so wanted some inside information.

"Seeing anyone …" Brennan's eyes narrowed. "You mean romantically?"

"Yeah," he nodded quickly. "Would you happen to know?"

"Agent Booth's personal life is his own," she answered crisply. "But I do know unequivocally that when seeking a romantic relationship, Booth is not interested in same-sex partners."

"What?" _What was she talking … oh my god._ "NO! God, that's not why I'm … god, no, I'm not gay," he hissed, raising his hand, never more glad to be wearing a wedding ring. "I'm married."

"Marital status is no indicator of sexual orientation," she ventured, trying not to laugh at the horrified look the agent was giving her. "In fact, because society is so judgmental when it comes to homosexuality, studies show that it is not uncommon for men to use marriage as a way to hide their …"

"Jesus … Dr. Brennan, I'm not gay." The skeptical look she threw him made him want to cry. He had heard the stories about having a conversation with Booth's partner but he hadn't believed most of them until now. He had even scoffed at the rumor that she had once made an agent cry, but considering he was on the verge of tears himself, he was now sure the story was absolutely true.

When she started talking about the history of same-sex relationships dating back to Ancient Greece, he lost it.

"There's a pool, Dr. Brennan! Ok? I'm asking because of the pool," he blurted out in desperation. Christ, there was little he regretted in his life, but starting this conversation was quickly climbing the small list.

"A pool?" Brennan sifted through her mental file. If she had the context of the conversation right, he was talking about some kind of wager. She remembered Booth explaining the concept of an office pool and she also remembered that because of his gambling addiction he tended not to participate in them. "About Booth?"

"Yeah," he said miserably, desperate to escape this conversation. "It's not a big deal, Dr. Brennan, there are always pools going on around the FBI."

"What is it about?" she demanded.

"I … I don't think that … " He shifted uncomfortably, but the way she folded her arms in front of her and stared him down told him there was no escape. "Last week after the hockey game we were in the locker room and uhm … there were some, you know … marks on Booth … and we made the pool."

"Marks … he was hurt?" She frowned again. "I don't understand, please clarify."

"Dr. Brennan, damn, sex marks, ok?" he spit out the words, no longer worried about delicacy but rather focused solely on escape. "Agent Booth had some nasty scratches down his back and the pool is about who gave them to him, all right."

He saw her eyes darken, but couldn't identify the emotion behind it. _Surprise? Curiosity? Passion?_ _Possession?_ And he suddenly wondered whether they had all gotten it wrong when they discussed Booth's mystery lady a week ago.

"_So, it has to be his bone lady, right?" _

"_No way, have you seen how he looks at her? Like he wants to eat her alive but hasn't been given permission. No way it's her."_

"_You know, he's right. Which takes me back to my one night stand theory. I mean, he's plenty hot for her but they keep it all professional, a man's gotta relieve some pressure, right?"_

"_I don't know, I mean the way he looks at her, he's got stupid in love all over him. I've known Booth a long time, I think he'd consider that cheating."_

"_Well, maybe he slipped. I mean, god, they are not even together, maybe he felt the need to ease the tension."_

And on and on they went, the choices ranging anywhere from his ex-this was a particularly popular choice because they had a child together-to some random woman he'd picked up in a bar-not nearly as popular, especially for the two agents that knew Booth fairly well. But still, they had all agreed that his partner was an unlikely candidate.

But now, looking into dark blue eyes full of _something_, he was reconsidering.

"Bones," Booth stopped short when he passed by the breakroom and recognized his partner. "What are you doing here?"

Two sets of eyes turned on him, her blue ones looked … _what was that, smugness?_ The agent's black ones merely looked panicked.

"What's going on here?" Booth directed his question at the person most likely to break down and give him an answer quickly. "Hartson?"

"Fuck, Booth, I don't know what the hell happened." He thrust one hand through his hair in agitation. "But I had to tell her about the pool."

"The pool?" Booth choked out in a horrified voice.

"Aw, come on, you knew there was going to be a pool," he pointed out bravely. "No way your little love marks were gonna escape such a time-honored tradition."

"I'm gonna bury you in paper work for the next century," Booth threatened ominously. "Going home to your wife is going to be a fond, fond memory."

"Fair enough," he accepted quickly, escaping out of the breakroom. And he couldn't help but smile on the way out because, though not in the way he expected, he'd just gotten his edge in the pool, after all.

_Dr. Brennan had just shot to the top of the list._

Because Booth had been pissed, sure, but there had been no guilty looks in his partner's direction, no quick attempts to explain. As crazy as he was about her, no way he would have wanted his partner to know he'd hit the sheets with some other woman. Just no way. He should have blown a freaking gasket, but he didn't even glance in her direction to see how she had digested the information. Only way that made any sense was if those scratches had come courtesy of the beautiful doctor.

Maybe he was reading too much into it, maybe he just wanted to think it was Dr. Brennan because it was obvious Booth was crazy about her and he was a romantic sap. But, regardless, he was putting his money on the good doctor and making a mental note to think _very _carefully next time before he started any conversations with her again.


	18. Losing All Control

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. Never have and sadly never will.

All right, because I kept thinking, just why did Brennan mark him so hard! This is the longest one so far. Hope you like and click that little button and let me know!

This chapter especially dedicated to the fabulous **Jerseybones**, without whom the last bunch of chapters of Breaking all the Rules would not have been nearly as good!

**Losing All Control  


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"Bren, you need to call Booth," Angela's strained voice made her look up from the computer.

"What's wrong?"

"I just heard on the news that there had been reports of a bomb threat at the Hoover building."

For one second she felt dizzy, she knew all the blood had drained from her face as she jumped out of her chair and lunged for her phone. She dialed his number, even as she picked up her keys and ran out of the office.

"Bren, let me know when you find out anything," Angela called after her, knowing it was useless to tell Brennan not to do anything foolish. She knew her friend would walk into that building and drag her partner out if she had to.

"I will," Brennan answered, heading out at a dead run. She pressed speed dial one again and again got his machine.

"Come on, Booth," she pleaded. "Answer the damn phone."

She tried to keep her mind blank as she drove through the streets of D.C. with precious little regard for its traffic laws. Brennan didn't know how many times she got his machine, but she felt on the verge of flinging the phone against the windshield.

_Goddamn it! _Almost six months ago he nearly caught a bullet to the head, and now freaking bomb threats. _What the fuck, Booth?_ Even in her mind, the words were perilously close to a hysterical sob.

She was a block away when the traffic jammed, so she got out of the car and ran the rest of the way until hitting the barricade.

"Ma'am, you can't go past here," the officer informed her. "There's a possible threat at the Hoover."

"I know!" Brennan nearly yelled. "My partner works there, he's not answering his phone …"

"Ma'am," he repeated, though the wild look in her eyes was giving him pause. "Look, the building has all been evacuated; your husband is not in that building anymore."

"My partner," she hissed, nearly ready to punch him when the phone in her hand rang. She didn't recognize the number but she knew it was him.

"Booth?" she answered.

"Bones," his warm, smooth voice made her weak with relief. "Listen, you may hear on the news that there's a …"

"I'm here, Booth," she interrupted. "I can't get past the barricade, where are you?"

"You are here?" It was clear he was not happy with that information. "Damn right you can't get past the barricade; there could be a freaking bomb in that building, do not …"

"Where are you?" she repeated, feeling like she wouldn't be able to breathe right until she saw him.

"I'm right next to _Central_, Bones," he sighed, naming a nearby restaurant. "We had to get away from …"

"Don't move," she ordered, throwing one last dirty look at the police officer and turning around.

The area near the restaurant was full of dark suited FBI agents, nearly all of whom looked annoyed at the inconvenience of a full evacuation in the middle of the day. Even amidst the crowd she spotted him immediately, looking impatient and gorgeous as he chatted with one of the other agents.

Brennan took a deep breath before taking another step, her entire body vibrating with the need to launch herself into his arms and breathe him in. His eyes snapped up and collided with hers; ending his conversation politely he walked in her direction.

Once he reached her, they walked silently until they were further away from the crowd of people.

"Bones?" Booth finally said softly, he could see the strain in the rigid line of her back.

"Angela heard it on the news," she spoke without looking at him. "I kept getting your voice mail." Her voice was nearly toneless but the words said it all.

"In all the commotion, I left my phone in the office," he explained, hands itching to grab hold of her and slam her against his chest. "I borrowed someone else's phone to call you."

"I could barely breathe until I saw you."

Wordlessly, he hugged her but she remained still, almost afraid of what would happen if she raised her arms and hugged him back.

"I doubt there are even any explosives in the building," he said, releasing her and taking a step back. "We get bomb threats fairly frequently, some are a bit more elaborate so we have to evacuate and call in the bomb squad, but it's unlikely there's actually a bomb in there." Although this knowledge hadn't calmed him down any when she answered the phone and told him she was trying to get past that damn barricade.

"Right," she acknowledged, keeping an iron-grip on every single emotion. "I have to get back to the office … I'll let them know everything's fine."

"Bones …" He took a step forward, her hollow voice turning him inside out.

"I'll see you later," she said, taking a step back and turning around. And Booth knew he was going to have to wait until tonight to uncover whatever she was hiding under all that control.

That night he didn't have to wait long. It was barely eight o'clock when he opened the door to her and he knew she had come here straight from work because she was wearing the clothes he'd seen her in earlier. Before he could even step back, she launched herself at him with zero self-control.

Booth staggered back as he caught her around the waist and struggled to close the door. She was kissing him madly, arms wrapping desperately around him and he knew instinctively _this _was what she had been trying to control earlier today.

_Bones, baby_. The words nearly escaped his lips on a gasp as she gripped the hem of his black T-shirt and yanked it up. He was nearly paralyzed as she ran her hands and lips adoringly over his jaw, his neck, every single inch of his chest. An uncontrollable shiver wracked his frame when she lowered his track pants swiftly and gave the same attention to his rigid cock. She swallowed him whole and he nearly passed out. Even after all these months, his knees always buckled whenever she put her mouth on him.

When she moaned around him, Booth threaded his fingers in her hair and gently pulled her up. He was stripped naked in front of her while she was still fully clothed, her eyes looking nearly wild. Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her softly, gently undressing her and trying to soothe her with soft kisses.

Once he removed every stitch of clothing, Booth wrapped his arms around her, pressing her naked body against his. Her arms went around him-something she hadn't allowed herself to do this afternoon-and she buried her face in his neck on a strangled sob.

He held her tight as she trembled, slight but unmistakable tremors wracking her slim frame. Turning his face, he placed a comforting kiss at her temple, hands smoothing soothingly through her hair, down to her back and up again. Booth had no idea how long they stood there but he knew he would have held her all night if that's what she needed.

Eventually her body stopped shaking but when she raised her head and looked into his eyes, he could tell she was still out of control. When he tried to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, Brennan snapped, dragging him down to the floor and raining desperate kisses all over him.

She cradled his hips between her legs and locked them around his waist in a vicious grip that sent him plunging into her. His lips crashed fiercely against hers as she bucked into him, the frenzied strokes of her tongue and wild movement of her hips letting him know exactly what she wanted from him.

On a groan of surrender, Booth sucked her tongue into his mouth, settling his hands on a tight grip at her hips. And then he let go.

Without releasing her mouth, he pounded her hard and fast. Over and over. No control and no hesitation, just absolute need and desperation. Her body arched and they wrenched their lips apart to gasp in some air. Bringing his head down, he sucked her nipples furiously, alternating between each tight peak, again and again. She moaned loudly, the pleasure of him hard and driving and goddamn alive between her legs, making her nearly mindless. When she raked her nails brutally down his back, he muffled his scream against her shoulder and pounded her harder.

There was nothing but absolute abandon in the way she came apart under him, nothing but the most exquisite commitment in the way he lost all control for her.

Once his labored breathing was somewhat under control, Booth picked her up and carried her to the bed. But though he cradled her in his arms as if she were made of glass, Brennan was desperate to show him that she wouldn't break and even more desperate to reassure herself that he was in her arms, solid and real and untouched by the dangers he faced every fucking day.

She couldn't stop kissing him, soft, adoring kisses that made his throat close up. But when her legs wrapped around him again, he could see it in her eyes.

_Take me. Make me forget. Forget how easily I could lose you every single day. Forget how the way I feel makes me more vulnerable now than ever before_.

Kissing her softly, he took her hard, swallowing her breathless sobs and letting the painfully erotic scrape of her nails on his back dictate the pounding rhythm of his body for the rest of the night.

When he woke up it wasn't so much morning as late afternoon and he rolled over in bed, wondering with a pang when she had left. Moving to the bathroom, Booth could only be grateful that it was a Saturday and he had nothing to do until his pick up hockey game that night.

"Holy shit, Bones," he whispered, catching a glance of his back in the bathroom mirror. The scratches were long and vivid, and _numerous_. She had marked him before, but never like this.

Booth knew they were going to sting the second he got in the shower, but shit, he could care less; because he fucking loved it when she lost so much control that he ended all scratched up.

He hissed as the water hit him and closed his eyes under the spray, smiling predatorily. _You are so mine, baby._ _Time's running out, Bones_.

With every night that passed they lost more and more control, not just at night but during the day. Lately they had a very slippery grasp on the pretense they'd held so tightly during the last few months. There was no way to do it anymore; no way to hide how they felt, to pretend they were just partners, to keep silent every night and day.

She knew it and he knew it. They were losing all control and losing it quickly and soon there would be nothing left to do but give in.


	19. Barely Leashed Restraint

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

I know it's been a while, sorry about that! I am relatively sure the next TWO chapters will be posted so much quicker! Last non-BB POV for this story, I think! Not exactly light-hearted, but not the angst-fest of the last chapter or the chapters to come! Thank-you so much to everyone who got me in gear by demanding I update this already! And thank-you to _**jmbatt**_ and _**allthatisevil **_for the advise on the logistics of this :)

**Barely Leashed Restraint  


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It was late and he was tired. He'd been looking at the same set of remains for what seemed like hours, trying to make up for the fact that earlier in the day Dr. Brennan had concluded with one glance what had taken him nearly an hour.

His eyes unfocused and drifted off and Wendell decided that maybe it was time to pack it in for the night, he didn't think there was even anyone else left in the lab. It took him a second to realize that he was, in fact, wrong as his eyes focused on the two people in Dr. Brennan's office. Through the glass walls, he could clearly see her and Agent Booth standing in front of the desk, facing each other.

At first Wendell wasn't sure what he was looking at when he saw Dr. Brennan turn around. After a blink of his tired eyes, Wendell realized Agent Booth was helping his partner shrug into her coat. He was about to get off the platform and go in search of his own coat when the action caught his attention. Helping someone with their coat was really nothing out of the ordinary, except …

His eyes narrowed and focused on the couple's profile, lips parting in a soundless gasp as he saw Agent Booth step close, gently pulling Dr. Brennan's hair out of the collar of the coat before letting it fall against her shoulders. It was such an innocent gesture, but there was no mistaking the intimacy of it; not with the way his chest was brushing her back, not with the way his fingers brushed the side of her neck gently; her head tilting slightly in reaction to the touch.

_Jesus, it was Dr. Brennan_, Wendell realized, thankful that this time there was no embarrassing outburst. His face colored automatically as he thought of the incident in the locker room a few weeks ago. God, he'd thought Booth was going to kill him that day and now, looking at the scene in front of him, he knew the reason why_. Dr. Brennan_. It almost seemed surreal.

Wendell recalled the discussion that ensued as soon as Booth had stormed out of the locker room. Every single FBI agent had known Booth had some pretty strong feelings for his partner, but not one had seriously considered that she had been the one to scratch the hell out of him. Wendell's cheeks blazed with color as he thought of those scratches, how out of control she had to have been to have made the deep, red marks all over Agent Booth's back. Wendell cringed as he realized he was now thinking about his colleagues' sex life. _Okay, change train of thought immediately_, he ordered his mind.

That was easier said than done when he could now see Agent Booth capturing her hand as she took a step forward and bringing her back around to face him. Immediately, he started buttoning up her coat with all the concentration Wendell figured some men reserved for disarming explosives._ Something was going on_, he concluded, observing the strangely intimate interaction. Yeah, they were sleeping together and keeping it a secret, but there was something else he couldn't put his finger on.

Seeing the careful step back Agent Booth took after finishing his task, the way Dr. Brennan's hand fisted at her side when he turned to pick up his scarf, made Wendell wonder exactly just what type of relationship they had going. The simple answer should have been that they were secretly dating, but the air of restrained passion around them was too intense for the answer to be anything as simple as that.

It struck him as strange that they hadn't touched each other in any significant way. Even though they were clearly trying to maintain their relationship a secret, it was late, they were alone in the office and as far as they knew, there was no one around; it was almost expected that there should be a tiny slip. But there wasn't and Wendell knew there was something significant in that which he couldn't really comprehend.

Dr. Brennan must have said something because he saw Agent Booth take a step in her direction and tilt her chin up. He was so close that Wendell almost expected him to kiss her, but instead he lowered his hand and moved to her desk, picking up a bunch of files. Releasing the breath he didn't even realize he was holding, Wendell turned around quickly and walked off the forensic platform.

All the way home, he couldn't forget the scene he'd just witnessed; it had been intimate and yet so full of _restraint_ at the same time. _Barely leashed restraint_, he corrected, thinking of the almost unnatural stillness of their bodies as Agent Booth buttoned up her coat. For over two years, he'd been amazed at the way in which two people could be in a relationship without actually _acknowledging_ the fact. He'd kind of thought, much like everyone else, that one day they would simply add the only missing element to their relationship and finally stop pretending they were just partners. But he should have figured, after the past two years plus the stories he'd heard from Angela, that nothing involving the two of them would be that simple.

He was pretty sure sex was definitely part of the picture now and no way were they still fooling themselves with that whole just partners thing, but it seemed they were still pretending at _something. _It was absolutely none of his business, Wendell knew, but damn, he was curious. He couldn't help it; after all, this was Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan.

They had barely even touched, but he had seen it. Looking at them in the dark and still quiet of the lab, it seemed preposterous that no one had figured it out already. Maybe everything was amplified in the dark of night, but it had been there, fairly pulsing between them. God, whatever was going on was_ intense _with a capital I. He couldn't help but think back to those scratches; they had screamed damn good sex, but now he thought maybe they also screamed something else, something not quite as simple or straightforward as sex.

_Jesus, over five years of self-restraint_, he mused. And in some strange way they seemed to still be holding on to that particular theme. How much longer would they do it?

Wendell thought of long, red scratches and fingers brushing over the side of a slim neck in a feather-light caress. And realized the better question was, how much longer _could_ they do it?

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_**Do you love Wendell as much as I do? Are you ready to see the torture end? Sound off and you might just get more BB before the new year! :) Merry Christmas and enjoy!  
**_


	20. Catch Me, Please

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

A/N: As promised, next chapter! Hope u like :) Warning: some angst is ensuing!

**Catch Me, Please**

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_I can't do this anymore. _

She looked down at his sleeping form and caught the single tear that rolled down her cheek before it hit his shoulder. But when another one fell, Brennan knew she wouldn't be able to hold them back, so she jumped out of the bed; one hand over her mouth containing the sob.

She dressed quickly and raced to her car and the minute she was inside, her forehead fell to the steering wheel, her entire body shaking as she broke down.

She drove home in a daze, knowing that she was going to be getting in to work late that day but unable to truly care. Her clothes fell carelessly to the floor of her bedroom as she stripped and then pulled on one of his shirts. She'd taken several over the latter part of the last six months, but the black-one that read FBI in small white lettering on the corner was her favorite. She had slept in it several times when she had gone to his apartment and one morning she just took it when she left; she had just needed that small part of him. And even though it had gone through a few washings she'd swear she could still catch his scent on the fabric.

Falling face down on the bed, she gripped the material near the collar and pressed it to her face. Brennan inhaled shakily and sobbed into the pillow in renewed desperation. She sobbed as she thought of the last six months, countless nights in which he showed her that between them it was _always_ making love. She thought of him waking up alone yet again and cried harder. And she knew she couldn't make love to him in silence anymore, she couldn't spend another night in his arms and then leave the next morning. It wasn't fair to him, it wasn't fair to her, it wasn't fair to _them_.

After the way she unhinged a few weeks ago when she couldn't get him on the phone, she should have seen this coming; this absolute breakdown that signaled the absolute impossibility of doing this for even one more night. But she hadn't and she'd been unprepared because yesterday there had been no bomb threats, no fighting, no out of town conference; nothing that would indicate that showing up at his door last night would irrevocably snap the admittedly thin barrier of her control.

Brennan wasn't sure what was it about last night that had shattered her. Maybe it was the way he'd caught her in his arms and twirled her around his living room when he opened his door and she launched herself at him. Or maybe it was his playful kisses as he threw her over his shoulder on a mock growl and carried her to his bed. Maybe just the sheer fun and happiness that had bubbled up irrepressibly when he scattered tickling kisses on her ribcage as he made love to her with teasing, playful touches. Or maybe, just maybe, it was simply the fact that it was one night too many. She didn't know, she wasn't sure, but it'd hit her like a well-aimed bullet. The intimacy, the _rightness_ of it. And it devastated her utterly, this self-imposed barrier that she had erected and he had respected to the letter. This reality she had created out of need and terror and the unbearable emotions she had tried so long to hide.

But hiding, in any way, was no longer an option. Brennan cried in relief and terror as she realized that it was time to face the shift in their reality; time to take that step off the cliff.

_Booth_, she whimpered in her mind, as if the mere combination of letters that formed his name could soothe and comfort.

_She needed him_. She needed him to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. She needed him to hold her, to absorb the feelings produced by his mere presence; a reminder that there was so much more to her than science and logic. Most of all, she needed to gather her courage and jump off the cliff.

In the end, it took her ten days before she finally got the courage to leap. For those ten days, terror and excitement sizzled through her veins.

_Catch me, please_.

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p.s. I will try to get the next one up in the next few days :)


	21. One Single Kiss

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/N: I'm hoping to update **_Exercise in Self Restraint_** by tomorrow but in case it doesn't happen, here's my New Year's present to you. As this is very near the end I'm trying to keep this fairly linear so there's no confusion-this is a little glimpse into those ten days, Booth POV. Enjoy!

Thanks to _**jerseybones**_ for the lovely beta of this chapter :)

**One Single Kiss**

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Around day three he'd started seriously cracking and on day seven he lost his mind completely. On the job. In the middle of the day. While waiting to interview a witness! Because she had just stopped showing up. After months and months of knocking on his door nearly every night, she had just stopped. Cold turkey, no warning and no explanation.

A few months ago, she had spent four nights away and he had nearly lost it, but after that night when she'd come over straight from that club, she had spent every single night with him. The only exceptions had been the days he had Parker and those few days she spent at that conference in Montreal.

Sometimes they made love all night, sometimes just once, and sometimes when they were just too tired from the day, he held her through the night. Booth had come to find out that the best night's sleep he ever got was always in her arms. And he had barely slept in the last seven days.

As they waited for the schoolteacher they had come to interview to finish her performance on stage with her class of preschoolers, Booth thought back to the last night she had come over.

_He had opened his door and she'd thrown herself into his arms, the way she did more and more often lately. He had caught her around the waist and spun her in a little circle in his living room as he kissed her. She had bit his bottom lip teasingly and a little answering growl had escaped his throat as he tossed her over his shoulder playfully and carried her to the bed. _

_Playful_. The word reverberated around his mind. They had made love twice that night and both times had been so playful with teasing caresses, breathy gasps, and barely controlled laughter. _Absolute and total intimacy_. He hadn't heard her leave in the morning and even though he had woken up alone, again, he had jumped out of bed without that horrible feeling he was so used to. Because he could see it, he could feel it; he could damn well _taste_ the dust that was the final wall of her silence crumbling down.

_What the hell's going on, baby? _The desperate question never made it past his lips as he looked at her, standing still and tense in the wings of the small stage as they waited for the performance to end. Booth saw her hand come up and grip the side stage curtain and he knew that he wasn't the only one cracking on the job, in the middle of the day, unable to maintain the pretense anymore.

In two steps he was standing behind her and he stood so close that Booth knew he had just lost control of the emotional reins he had gripped viciously over the last seven days. After the third day he'd started to worry, but now he was going crazy. And as he raised one hand up slowly and trailed his fingertips down the side of her neck he knew that he'd finally lost all composure.

Her skin broke out in goosebumps as his fingers moved down the curve of her shoulder, down her arm, until he finally placed his hand over hers, threading their fingers together loosely. As if he had lost control of his body, Booth's head moved down until his breath ghosted along the back of her neck, disturbing the slight curls that had escaped from her ponytail. Almost in slow motion, his slightly parted lips moved side to side along her nape in a caress so faint, Brennan nearly thought she was imagining it. Her breath hitched without her permission and he increased the pressure of his lips just the tiniest bit against her sensitive skin.

Booth closed his eyes and inhaled, her scent so deliciously familiar he could recognize it anywhere. It was the kind of scent that intoxicated and he would so often smell it on his skin, on his sheets, and even on some of his shirts. Helplessly, he pressed his lips against her skin in an open-mouthed kiss.

One single kiss, but it asked every question.

_Why are you staying away? _

_What's making you run like this? _

_Why don't you just turn around and finally tell me what I've been waiting to hear for the past six months?_

Her back pressed against his chest as she melted into him and it nearly broke him. Not once, in six months, had he ever touched her in any way that wasn't completely professional during the day. Even when he hugged her, or bumped her shoulder with his, or placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her out of a room, it had not been anything more intimate than what he'd been doing for the past five years. The fact was that he had been terrified of doing anything that would make her face this thing before she was ready; terrified that if he did so, she would panic and run.

But if the past seven days were any indication, she was running anyway and he was helpless against the burning need to remind her that everything had changed irrevocably between them and she couldn't pretend otherwise.

The clapping in the auditorium, signaling the end of the performance, brought him back to his senses. He released her hand, but his lips still rested against her skin. Booth could see their witness and her students taking their final bow and knew time was up—time to turn back into an FBI agent with a job to do, instead of a man on the verge of breaking down. Before taking that final step back that would once again put professional space between them, his lips opened once more on her nape in a swift but hard kiss; his tongue and his teeth branding her skin.

One single kiss, but it said everything.

_I love you._

_I need you._

_Please, don't stay away_ _anymore_.

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_**p.s. Next one will be Shattered, last one-shot that needs to be incorporated from OBU and then there will be two maybe three chapters left! Let me hear what you think :)**_


	22. Shattered

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

Final Only B/W Us piece incorporated, yay!! We are so close, bear with me!

**Shattered  


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_Where the hell was she?_

It was the question that had haunted him every day for the past ten days. Booth was always very careful to pose the question as _where_, instead of _who_. Because if he started wondering who the hell she was with, he might just lose it.

And he might just show up at _her_ door and let her know in a fury of kisses and tempestuous lovemaking that they weren't going to keep this silent anymore. He might just pound into her over and over again until she finally screamed his name and stopped pretending.

Pretending they could continue to do this. Pretending she didn't shatter under him practically every night and then leave him to wake up alone in the morning.

Damn, sometimes he would hear her get up from the bed and he would pretend too.

Pretend he was asleep; pretend she wasn't killing him every time she left like that. But then he'd hear his front door close and it was his heart that shattered, reminding him that pretense could only take you so far.

_And ten days was fucking far enough._

But he closed his fists and forced himself to shut off the voice that was screaming at him to just get up and go make her face reality.

Because it had to be her choice. _God_, it had to be her decision because he needed to know she couldn't take it anymore either.

Booth knew he wasn't the only one that couldn't get enough. She couldn't either. That's why she kept coming back. Because she couldn't get enough of what he did to her. What they did to each other. And he also knew she wasn't using him. He knew she needed him just like he needed her.

But having her at night wasn't enough to satisfy that need. And the one thing he _didn't_ know was whether having him just at night was enough for_ her_.

When she gave herself to him, he didn't have any doubts, but when she left him in the morning, he shuddered to think that she could be satisfied playing this game indefinitely.

And he kept waiting, even though, it was slowly breaking him.

Because he knew her enough to know she was probably feeling scared. Hell, the intensity of what'd been happening in his bed almost every night had taken even him by surprise. So she had to be terrified.

But it had been _months_ now and he did not want to wake up to the sound of his front door closing ever again.

He couldn't keep waking up to the smell of her on his sheets and know that scent was all that was left of her. He couldn't make love to her all night and then pretend all day he'd never even touched her.

And the last ten days had reminded him that he couldn't live with the knowledge that she was only his on _some_ nights.

Booth squeezed his eyes shut as image after image of those nights washed over him.

_Oh, God, he couldn't take it, he couldn't do this anymore. He was going to splinter into a million pieces._

His eyes snapped opened and his heart went crazy at the soft knock. He got up from the couch slowly and walked even slower towards the door.

He closed his eyes as his hand reached for the knob, helpless to turn away but wondering how many more nights he could do this before he shattered.

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_**p.s. I know this is not a new post but I envision that after tmw I should be updating almost every story over the next week or so. And I'll keep the drabbles going on Magic b/w Us :)**_


	23. Ten Days

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

Yay, story hiatus over! Thank-you so much to everyone who's stuck with me on this story! Enjoy!

**Ten Days  


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"Dr. B, hey, I analyzed those soil samples and you would not believe …"

"I'm sorry, Hodgins, but I have to go," she interrupted without slowing down her pace.

"Go?" he repeated the word as if he'd never heard of it. "But I have the results you've been …"

"You can tell me tomorrow," Brennan said distractedly. "I have somewhere I need to be."

His bright blue eyes looked at her as if she were some strange new life form he'd never encountered before.

"But … but, this is about the case," he stressed, feeling nearly stifled at being unable to share his results. "Just give me ten minutes, I'm telling you, this is …"

"I don't have ten minutes," Brennan replied, her next words more for herself than him as she left Hodgins staring after her in shock. "This has already been ten days overdue."

_Ten days._

Ten days of absolute misery. There was really no other way to describe it because her partner was like candy-coated addiction and she was going through withdrawal.

In nearly six months she'd never stayed away longer than a week. And even that had been only at the beginning, when she was still trying to convince herself that she was going to stop. But it soon became distressingly clear that she couldn't stay away from him so she just gave in; over and over again.

She'd barely gotten any sleep the past few days because all she could do was toss and turn in bed, every part of her desperate to get up and go.

She'd been half expecting to see _him_ at her door around day seven. She remembered day seven in vivid detail. As illogical as it was, Brennan thought she could still feel the imprint of his lips on her neck.

_That kiss._ That kiss in the middle of the day that told her, he was going as crazy as she was. That kiss that told her pretending, regardless of the time of day, was no longer an option.

Brennan wasn't even entirely sure why she was still staying away. It wasn't as if the terror and excitement that pounded in her veins seemingly every minute of the day was going to ameliorate in any way. And the inescapable fact was that she needed to just show up at his door and tell him. Tell him how much she wanted him, how much she needed him, how she couldn't stand the silence anymore. The silence which over the past few days had crept over their car rides and even their lunches.

When she stole his fries at lunch today, he hadn't said a word. Only looked at her with those brown eyes she had fallen so ridiculously in love with and seared her with his gaze.

_Ten days. _

He had to be going out of his mind too and she couldn't do it anymore. Even as good as he was at pretending during the day, she'd seen the strain around his eyes the past few days; he wasn't getting much sleep either.

Her hands trembled on the steering wheel as she drove to his apartment. Everything was about to become real and it terrified her. But coating that terror deliciously was excitement, because tonight they weren't going to keep it quiet. He always made her want to scream and she wasn't going to hold back tonight. Not to mention that she was determined to find out just how loud _he_ could get. It was definitely unfair that even after six months she'd yet to discover that particular piece of information.

Staring at his door, just like she had countless times before, Brennan could barely hear her thoughts over her pounding heartbeat._ Oh god, Booth, I'm fucking terrified_.

Slowly, slowly she raised her hand and knocked softly, heart going crazy when he opened the door. Looking into his glittering dark eyes, she could see just how far to the edge the last ten days had pushed him.

He moved to the side to let her in and she walked inside in a near trance. Brennan had never realized that it was possible to feel quite so much happiness and terror in the same breath. Her purse landed on his table, as always, and when she turned to look at him, her throat closed up. He was wearing black track pants and a black t-shirt that molded to his perfect chest and she was certain nothing had ever before looked as good as him. He seemed almost casual, leaning against the closed door, arms folded in front of him as he stared her down. But Brennan knew better, there was nothing casual about him.

She could practically see the challenge in the line of his body, in the way he was standing in front of the door and looking at her, like he was daring her to walk out again without saying anything. Like he was telling her that he was going to stand there, between her and the door, until she surrendered.

Brennan walked forward until she was standing right in front of him, but he didn't move a muscle. She settled her hands at his waist softly and a muscle in his jaw ticked, letting her know he was holding himself back with every ounce of control.

She felt breathless, dizzy, practically intoxicated as she looked at him. So gorgeous. So perfect. And all hers.

Her partner. The man that taught her trust and faith and love were more than words in the dictionary. She'd told him once that there was no such thing as magic, but in the last six months she'd discovered that magic was walking straight into his arms. And there was nothing more magical than surrendering to him.

_Tell him.  


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_**p.s. Hope you're not dissapointed! I await your thoughts with bated breath! Anyone care to guess the first thing Brennan will say? :)**  
_


	24. Sweet Surrender

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I know it took me way longer that it should have and I truly thank everyone who reviewed and PMed reminding me that this story was loved and needed an update! Hugs and kisses to _**jerseybones**_ for the awesome beta'ing!

Enjoy!

**Sweet Surrender**

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Once. Twice.

Her lips brushed over his. Side to side. Testing. Tasting. Taking.

"Magic."

The whispered word coiled around him, his body still as a statue.

"You were right," she confessed hoarsely against his lips. "There's magic, Booth."

He uncoiled like a spring, arms encircling her frame and crushing her against him. One hand stroked up until his fingers tunneled in her hair and he fisted the soft strands as his mouth slanted down on hers in absolute possession.

She desperately gasped in air when he finally released her lips.

"No more," he breathed, momentarily burying his face against her neck, before raising his head to look at her.

"Tell me," Booth demanded, whirling her around and pinning her against his door. "Tell me right now."

"Booth …"

"Right fucking now, Temperance," he growled, jerking up her shirt swiftly and throwing it over his shoulder. He touched her in a near frenzy, hands unsnapping metal buttons, black jeans and black underwear yanked down and away as his teeth dragged one bra strap over her shoulder.

He was literally devouring her—lips sucking wildly at her throat—and Brennan's head thudded back against the door in a daze. She wanted to answer him, but her brain was short-circuiting in the most outrageous manner she'd ever experienced.

"Six months," he growled, not in accusation, but in disbelief that they'd been doing this for so long. "I've been waiting for you for six months."

"I know," Brennan whimpered, leaning forward and running her lips deliriously over one shoulder as he flung her bra away and sucked on her breasts ravenously. "I'm sorry. Oh god, I'm sorry … I need you. So much … I need you."

He moaned deep in his throat, cupping both hands around her bottom and boosting her fully naked body up against his door. Those mile-long legs immediately wrapped around his waist and her hands snaked under his T-shirt, nails raking hard across his skin. Booth hissed sharply at the sting, fingers digging reflexively on her soft curves as he whirled around and headed for his bedroom.

Booth slammed the bedroom door shut behind them and the loud sound made her gasp into his neck.

"The past ten days have been hell," Booth gasped on a shudder, hands and lips running feverishly over her. "So long … been waiting so damn long."

"H-how much longer were you willing to wait?" she asked hesitantly.

"Forever, Bones," he answered in raw honesty, eyes burning nearly black as he placed her down on the bed. "Fucking forever."

He couldn't stop touching her, dropping frantic kisses wherever he could even as she scrambled up, kneeling on the bed and facing him. She answered his desperate kisses with her own, hands immediately gripping the edge of his T-shirt. Wordlessly, his arms went up, allowing her to raise and discard the black fabric. Her lips landed softly on his chest and he lowered his arms, hands tangling in the waves of her hair.

"Look at me," Booth rasped, tightening his grip slightly until her eyes were level with his. "Tell me," he asked again, voice hoarse when he clarified, "Tell me everything you've been holding back for the past six months."

Her eyes closed momentarily, the words rising like a tidal wave and scraping at her throat. _So much. There was so much_. When her eyes opened again, Brennan knew there was nothing left to hold back anymore.

His brown eyes were searing, the usually melted brown so dark it was almost black. His warm, perfect chest rose and fell in a nearly mesmerizing pattern. Without thought she blurted out, "You're so beautiful."

Immediately, a slight blush stained his cheekbones and Brennan could see she'd taken him by surprise. She _had_ held back so much and it wasn't fair. He needed to know and she was going to start with this.

"Rationally, I know the arch of your forehead, the line of your mandible …" Her lips brushed softly over each feature as she struggled to convey the feelings she could barely even explain to herself. "I know I'm wired to respond to all this perfect symmetry … but yet the way I can't help myself from touching you, the way I want you is almost irrational."

Her hands glided down his chest, fingertips pressing against the ridged abdominal muscles before hooking on the elastic of his track pants.

"From that first night," she confessed, lowering the last barrier between his completely naked body and her greedy hands. "I've been addicted to you from that first night."

"You tried to pretend one night was going to be enough," Booth chastised gently, stepping out of the track pants, which had pooled on the floor. His arms went around her waist, holding her against him as he switched their positions so he was sitting on the bed and she was straddling him.

"And I failed miserably," Brennan replied, holding onto his shoulders as she lowered herself on him. "I couldn't stay away, could I?" Slick and hot, she slid easily down his rigid length and two moans of satisfaction vibrated the air.

"Don't ever stay away," he rasped, falling back on the bed, eyes drifting shut in ecstasy at the feel of her moving sensually on top of him.

"I can't," she admitted, looking down at him solemnly. "I need you, Booth."

His eyes flashed open and he stroked one hand up her back to curl his fingers tightly around her nape. "Again."

"I need you, I do," she husked, showering him with frenzied kisses, desperate to convey everything she'd been denying them both for so long. "I always have."

One arm around her, Booth slid back until his legs no longer dangled off the bed. Grasping her hips, he helped her set a smooth, even rhythm. Brennan moaned into his mouth, the feel of his fingers digging into her skin always made her wild. On a groan, he crashed their lips together, kissing her violently. In response to his passion, she ran feverish hands over him, hips unconsciously picking up speed. Her knees tightened against him and he let out a muffled moan, reminding Brennan to wrench her mouth away.

"I want to hear how loud you can get," she gasped and the words seemed to snap something inside him.

"And I wanna hear _you_ scream my name," he growled, flipping her under him and driving hard into her body.

Arms and legs wound around him as she arched her back, nails digging fiercely into the rippling muscles under her hands. He surged over her and she groaned at the feel of him so hard and deep inside her.

"Booth …" It wasn't yet a scream, but it was enough for him to brace his hands on the bed on either side of her head and slide even deeper.

"Temperance …" Her entire body shuddered at the sound of her name escaping from his lips. No one had ever said her name like that, full of need and desperation. Low in her belly, something clenched in delirious anticipation as he ran hot kisses up her throat.

"Yes, _oh yes,_ Booth!" Her eyes slammed shut for a second, before she opened them again, entranced by him, all masculine force and raw passion, surging over her. Muscles bunched and tensed under her hands and all she could see, feel, taste was him, driving faster and faster between her legs.

"Ooohh, so perfect," she cried, verbalizing the thought that had crossed her mind countless times and she had always forced herself to stifle. "This is perfect … you're so perfect."

"For you," he gasped, labored breaths mingling with hers. "Perfect for you. With you …" His words fell against her lips, coiling around her like an electrical wire. Face buried in her neck, he pumped harder, meeting the desperate movement of her own hips under him. The pressure cycled faster and tighter, higher and higher, until he threw his head back and shouted her name hoarsely.

"BOOTH!" Her answering scream shattered them both, leaving two heated, breathless bodies tangled hopelessly together.

"I love you," Booth said against her throat, not in a whisper, but in the clearest voice he could manage considering he was wrung dry.

Brennan's eyes opened and her arms tightened around him in response.

"Say it again." The request surprised them both, but she had been denying herself those words for six months and she was suddenly desperate to hear them again, to know this was real.

Booth raised his head and looked down into liquid blue eyes.

"I love you." Scattering kisses all over her face, he repeated it, over and over again. "IloveIloveyouIloveyou."

"I've been so afraid," she confessed, holding him tighter, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. "That's why … the last six … I'm sorry, I'm sorry …"

Booth rolled to his back so he wouldn't crush her, taking her with him since her arms and legs were still wrapped around him. "It's okay, baby …" he soothed, hands gently smoothing up and down her back. "Just … please, tell me … what have you been so afraid of?"

"Giving you up …" Her fingers clenched on his skin. "I … I know the silence and the pretense, I know it's been wrong, but … god, as long as nothing changed you were still mine. I could still have you and I didn't know what would happen when there was nothing to hide behind."

"Oh damn, Bones," he breathed, stunned by the vulnerable confession. His hands glided up, until they speared into her hair and he was able to keep her eyes locked on his. "I am yours, been yours, will always be yours."

"Oh," she smiled shyly, fingertips unconsciously feathering side to side along his collarbone. "I … am I yours too?"

"Hell yes," Booth growled, raising his head from the pillow to capture her lips in a quick kiss. "Mine, so mine."

"Okay," Brennan conceded, before clarifying earnestly, "I mean, technically, I know that I can't own you or vice versa, but I still accept the meaning behind the sentiment as indicative of …"

Laughing, Booth rolled her over again, interrupting her lecture and letting his lips trail indiscriminately all over her soft skin.

"No more hiding, Bones," he said, growing serious again. "No more pretense, no more silence."

"No," she agreed solemnly, cupping his face in her hands, sighing at the sweet weight of him settled over her. "I won't silence the way I want you, anymore." She pressed a kiss against his warm throat. "I don't want to pretend I don't need you." Kiss to one corner of his mouth. "Can't hide that I love you, even if I tried."

**--x--**

Like quite a few mornings before, her arm was wrapped around his waist and her cheek was pressed to his back.

Slowly she released him, the bed shifting under her moving weight. Automatically, his mind pleaded, _don't leave_, before he realized that this morning was _not_ like every morning and _this_ morning, he didn't have to hold back.

Eyes popping open, Booth turned swiftly, one arm shooting out and snaking around her stomach.

"Don't even think about it," he ordered, bringing her back until she was under him, in the middle of the bed.

"Wha … Oh." Her eyes widened in understanding and her arms went around him, palms caressing the suddenly tense muscles of his back. "I was going to the kitchen. I'm thirsty," she explained. "I'm not leaving."

"Good," Booth said casually, as if he hadn't had a slight panic attack inside his own head the second he felt her move. " 'Cause I'm not letting you."

"Every single morning I wanted to stay," Brennan admitted, running one foot absentmindedly against his calf. "It hurt to leave, Booth, it did, but I … I kept doing it … I'm sorry, I wish I'd just …"

"Shh," he calmed, cupping his hands around her suddenly anxious face. "I kept thinking it had to be your choice, but I wish I had stopped you. The first time I heard you leave, I should have just stopped you … but I was terrified too."

"I wanted you to stop me," she confessed in a tiny voice. "The last time I left … I couldn't handle it anymore … that's when I knew I couldn't do this anymore."

"Oh, baby," he whispered softly, heart clenching in the realization that as hard as it had been waking up alone, it had been just as hard for her to leave. "I … I ran after you one morning, I couldn't help myself. You remember when you came back from your conference last month?"

"Yes." Of course, she remembered, it had been the one and only time he had touched her in the morning. She had been able to feel him on her skin for hours and had fantasized about morning sex with her partner for the rest of the day.

"I ran after you, half-naked," Booth said, remembering too how out of control he'd felt making love to her that morning. "You were already gone and I wanted to punch something." He chuckled slightly as he recalled, "I scared the crap out of some kid walking into the building."

"Booth," she murmured his name huskily, running her lips down his throat and pressing on that spot at the base she had discovered months ago. "I love waking up to you."

He smiled and growled softly, eyes rolling back in his head as her hot little hands grabbed hold of him, placing him right where she wanted him. Sliding his palms over the side of her body, he held her in his hands, raising her torso towards his mouth.

The softest _oh_ escaped her when his lips closed gently around one coral-pink nipple, the suction light but constant. Just the tip of him entered her body and she whimpered, arching in his hands, her own falling to her side and gripping the sheets like a lifeline. His tongue rasped over her neglected breast and he used the tip to trace the edge of her areola before finally sucking the pearled nipple into his mouth. Over and over, he pumped her in soft, shallow thrusts with the head of his cock and sucked her nipples into oblivion.

She moaned, head dropped back in utter abandon and he felt nearly drugged; drunk on the feel of her under his lips and intoxicated by the breathless chanting of his name.

"Booth, Booth, Booth," she whimpered, hands tensing tightly in his hair. He'd never heard that edge to her voice before and now Booth knew he was going to make it his mission to hear it as often as possible.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he encouraged; ready to give her everything and anything she wanted. Anything at all.

"More," Brennan moaned loudly, planting her feet on the mattress and rocking up into him. "I need … more, please … let me feel you deep inside … ohhhhhhhh god!"

Finally, he plunged deep, her sensitive walls gloving him hotly and forcing a harsh groan out of him. Resting his forehead against hers, Booth found himself awash in tiny, delirious kisses. Lacing their fingers together, he filled her up again and again until she tore the release out of him, her name rising up from deep in his chest to echo in the room.

"Bones!"

Her eyes went blind, every part of her surrendering to him. The hot, never ending flow of him spilling into her, reaching every single cell, warming her up from the inside out. This was perfection. This was completion.

This is what she wanted to wake up to every single morning.

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**--x--**

_**p.s. You have no idea how nervous I am about this since I realized that this story has been alerted by so many people. I know you've waited patiently and I sincerely hope you were not disappointed so please let me know your thoughts! There will be another chapter because I like to end my stories with epilogues :) **_


	25. Shouted in the Silence

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I hope the quickness of this update makes up for the lack of alacrity the last time! Much love to _**jerseybones**_ for the awesome and super-fast beta'ing! Here's to hoping the finale doesn't crush our hearts!

**Epilogue: Shouted in the Silence**

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He woke up alone.

For just a second his heart raced faster, before his brain engaged and he rolled out of bed in search of his partner. Almost seven months later and there was still that tiny, unconscious second of anxiety whenever he woke up without her next to him.

Booth didn't have to search long, he knew where she was. Walking barefoot into the living room, he found her on the rocking chair Max had insisted they needed. He leaned against the entryway and watched her rocking slightly, one hand holding up a book, the other palm-down over her stomach.

"So, I guess your dad was right about the chair," he said, walking forward and dropping a kiss on top of her head and one on her swollen belly. "I keep waking up alone and finding you here."

"It is very soothing," she admitted, running her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair as he crouched in front of her. "I've been reading out loud to the baby and I didn't want to wake you."

"I know," he said softly, cupping his hands around her very pregnant belly. "So, she can really hear us now, huh?"

"Yes, _now_ talking to her makes sense," Brennan teased; they had covered this particular ground from day one. Even when her stomach was completely flat, he had stretched out on the couch, head on her lap, talking to the baby. She had explained over and over that the baby wouldn't be able to hear until about the sixth month or so, but he had insisted and she really couldn't put up much of a fight when he turned those shining brown eyes on her.

Closing her own eyes now, Brennan smiled as he brushed his lips whisper-light over her tummy. "Hello, princess," Booth said earnestly. "Now, the first time you meet Mommy she might be screaming, but don't worry …"

"Booth!" Her eyes snapped open and she tugged on his hair playfully. He chuckled softly, brown eyes twinkling as he rested his cheek delicately on her belly.

"What are you reading her?" he inquired curiously.

"The collected poems of Edgar Allan Poe," Brennan answered, showing him the book.

"What?" He shifted a little to get a better look at the book, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jeez, Bones, that's some heavy reading."

"The poems are very lyrical, it gives my voice a rhythmic quality the baby can recognize," she defended quickly, voice going soft when she added, "Dad told me that Mom read me _The Raven_ and _Annabel Lee_ when I was still in the womb."

"I think I read _The Raven _in college," Booth commented casually, but his eyes had gone soft the second she mentioned her mom. "But not the other one."

"_Annabel Lee_," she repeated, fingertips whispering absently along his nape. "It's very romantic."

"Romantic?" he teased, palms stroking over her belly lovingly. "Ah, Bones, I've definitely been rubbing off on you."

Brennan rolled her eyes and he merely laughed, standing up and tugging on her hand.

"C'mon, Bones," he cajoled. "Come back to bed and read me _Annabel Lee_."

She considered protesting, but she was still tired—no surprise there—and going back to bed with him did sound appealing. Book in one hand, Brennan allowed him to guide her back to the bedroom.

With a contented sigh, Booth got back in bed, sitting with his back propped against the headboard. With a sigh of her own, she settled between his legs, her back against his warm, bare chest as his arms wound around her, palms resting automatically over her rounded stomach.

"I hate waking up without you," he admitted, nuzzling her hair and pressing his lips to the side of her neck.

"I know why," she said softly, closing her eyes in regret. "I know it's my fault …"

"What?" he frowned, aware she was winding herself up. "What are you talking about? I just like to wake up with you in my arms."

"Yes, I know," she conceded. "But I also know that all those mornings when I left … I know they hurt you and when you first wake up your mind is still a little disoriented and if you wake up alone, it might take you a moment to …"

"Okay," he interrupted. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

"Booth …"

"That's psychology, Bones," he pointed out. "Since when do you put any stock in psychology anyway?"

"I don't," she said quickly.

"Of course you don't. It's a soft science," Booth reminded her teasingly.

"Booth …" she sighed. "Just … don't brush it aside, please."

"Okay, look, you're right," he admitted, resting his chin on her shoulder. "It did hurt and I know it hurt you too, which kills me, Bones."

"Booth, don't-"

"Let me finish," he said softly. "You're right, when you first wake up, the mind is not fully engaged and my heart races a little bit when I wake up without you. Not because of what you think, okay? But because for that one second, my mind almost can't comprehend that it's real; the last seven months _and_ the six before that, okay?"

Brennan turned her head, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, nodding slowly in understanding.

"But when I wake up next to you, it's definitely real," Booth explained, dropping a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "There's no second of confusion, you know. It's all real, all of it. Those six months of silence and the night we said to hell with silence and every night after."

"Sometimes, I still can't believe we made a baby that night," she whispered faintly, placing one hand over his on her stomach.

"I'll say," Booth chuckled as he remembered. "You totally freaked out, Bones."

"I did not!"

"Baby, you were almost hysterical," he recalled, kissing her shoulder tenderly.

"That is false," she gasped in outrage. "I have never been hysterical in my life."

"You wanted Caroline to prosecute your birth control manufacturer," Booth reminded her. "And you wanted to sue them for … what was it again … product failure, right?"

"Shut up," she growled, pointedly raising the book and flipping it open. "You want me to read this or not?"

"By all means," he chuckled, raising one hand from her tummy and sweeping her hair to the side, better exposing the column of her neck.

Brennan read the first two stanzas of the poem, but gave up before starting the third.

"I … I can't concentrate when you do that, Booth," she complained breathlessly, throwing the book aside.

"What? This?" he whispered innocently in her ear, bringing his hands to the thin straps of her lilac nightgown and tugging them down.

"Booth …"

"Mmm?" he murmured distractedly, running open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck. Booth pushed her nightgown down around her waist, his hands immediately cupping her oh-so-sensitive breasts gently.

"Is this … ohh … is this why you wanted me to come back to bed?" she asked, placing her hands on his thighs and rocking back against his erection.

"No," he groaned, sweeping his hands down her body and fisting the silky fabric bunched around her waist. "This is just what happens when I have you in my arms … oh please, take this off."

"Well, because you asked so politely," she teased, wiggling the nightgown down her hips and discarding it over the side of the bed.

"These too," he breathed, hooking his fingers on her panties and lowering the scrap of lace as well. "Oh yeah." Booth made a little satisfied sound in the back of his throat as he divested her of the last stitch of clothing, his hands skimming lightly over the inside of her thighs. "Oh, Bones, I love getting you naked."

"Touch me," she moaned softly, head falling back against his shoulder.

"Say my name, baby," he growled playfully, nipping one earlobe lightly.

"Booth, c'mon, don't tease," Brennan panted, thighs falling open in invitation. "Touch me, touch me … ohhhhhh."

He splayed one hand protectively on her stomach and slipped the other one between her legs. His middle and index fingers slid easily inside her and Brennan wound an arm around his neck, hips moving on his pumping fingers.

"That feels so good," she breathed heavily, her pregnant, over-sensitized body nearly vibrating in his arms. "Oh yes … _yeeesss_, just like that … Booth, oh my god, I'm so close …"

The hand she had around his nape gripped tighter and he turned his head to kiss the inside of her arm. Her free hand came up to cup one breast and Booth stroked up from her stomach, palming her neglected breast and rubbing the tight peak with his thumb. Between her legs, his fingers stroked all the way out, smoothing over her clit, before plunging back in slickly.

"So sexy," he whispered hotly in her ear, rocking forward a little. "So hot and soft and …oh baby, yeah, come for me."

For a second, her body stilled, suspended in that plateau right before pleasure shuddered through her, making her quake uncontrollably. Brennan didn't even realize she was saying his name over and over again as he settled her back down with soothing kisses along the slope of her shoulder.

Gently, his fingers slipped out of her body and she whimpered a little, eyes still closed. Booth popped his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean, moaning softly at the taste of her. The sound made her open sleepy eyes and rest her hands on his pajama-covered thighs.

"You're so hard, Booth," she noted huskily, rocking back into him.

"You make me cra-" His words ended on a gasp as he grabbed her hips, helping her little rocking motion. "Oh baby, god yes, feels so damn good."

He buried his face in her neck, grinding her back into him and letting her scent and her body and her sharp little nails digging into his thighs ratchet up the delicious pressure.

"Say my name, Booth," she ordered, voice low and seductive the way she knew drove him crazy.

"Temperance!" he gasped, shuddering in relief, opening his mouth on the tender spot between neck and shoulder and sucking on it. "Oh, Bones. _Bones, Bones, Bones_."

He chanted the word softly, wrapping his arms around her, but as always, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Eyes closed, Booth rested his head back against the bed's headboard, his fingertips drawing circles gently over her swollen belly.

"Mmm …we're kinda sweaty, sticky messes, Bones," he said lazily, leaning forward and swiping the back of her shoulder with his tongue.

"Angela once told me that if it wasn't messy, it wasn't being done right," Brennan recalled with a laugh.

"Well, we're definitely doing it right, then," Booth chuckled, shifting a little and realizing that the mess inside his pajama pants was likely going to get uncomfortable very soon. "Hey, you want me to draw you a bath?" he offered.

"Mmm …" she mumbled sleepily, feeling lulled by the soft caress of his hands on her stomach. "In a little while … I don't think I can move; I'm so comfortable."

Booth smiled at the soft, slightly slurred voice. He loved getting her like this, all warm and pliant and oozing satisfaction.

Brennan's eyes drifted shut in delicious lethargy, her voice barely audible when she whispered, "I love you."

Soft and sleepy, the words still hit him like a blow. They always did, leaving him nearly breathless.

"I know," Booth murmured. And he did.

He'd known long before the night they made their baby that she did. For those six months they hadn't said a word, but he couldn't hide it and neither could she. Because there were some things that could always be heard bright and clear, even when shouted in the silence.

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_**p.s. Thank-you so much to everyone for sticking with this story despite the posting gaps! Every review, comment, and PM was truly awesome and absolutely kept me motivated to finish this! Hope u take a sec and comment on this final chapter and more importantly hope you've enjoyed the ride! :) **_


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